Shadow Games
by Clez
Summary: My telling of what went through Tom Sawyer's head between the point of our first seeing him in the movie, right up until the funeral in Africa and of course, it's all told from his perspective.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **I wrote this one on New Year's Day, whilst sitting in my sister's flat with bugger all to do (that means nothing by the way). So, being the constant writer that I am, I couldn't just sit there and watch cruddy films all day, I _had_ to write something! So this is the result. It may yet turn into a series, but only if it is requested, and I mean that strictly. I'm saying that, because as you will see, it would only turn out being the film with added bits (perhaps extracts from the novel, yet adapted), told from Tom Sawyer's perspective. It's very doubtful I will do it, but still… it's an idea, huh? Well, let me know what you think of this piece.

* * *

                Rain poured down relentlessly from the black heavens, falling to the cobbled streets of London in great sheets that succeeded effortlessly in soaking anything out in the open. Ladies and gentlemen alike carried umbrellas, making their way home in the failing light of the late English afternoon. The 'thing' -for there was truly no other way to describe it to strangers of the design- parked outside the museum attracted many sets of eyes, and several pedestrians were even brave enough to venture closer to it.

                There was only one among the crowd gathered in the downpour that recognised the basics of the creation. He had been permitted to view the early designs for such a machine from manufacturers called 'Ford'. Though this was far from what they had conceived and even built, the young man found it hard to mistake the lengthy white 'thing' for an automobile. 

                Special Agent Thomas Sawyer -Tom to his friends, of which there were few nowadays- regarded the contraption with a veiled sense of awe as he stood in the rain. This weather did not suit him at all; though he _had_ sat unprotected -practically, save for a large oak tree- through a raging storm before as a child. A slight, humourless smile crept onto his face at the short-lived memory, before he remembered his sorrowful reason for even _being_ in England, and his features became solemn once more.

                Standing out in the rain did nothing to improve his mood, and as he stood there, he wished he had some better form of shelter from the elements. His ankle-length black cloth jacket kept out most of the wet, but somehow the cold seeped through and gnawed at him irritably. He suppressed a shudder and glanced down at his booted feet. Rain ran off the wide peak of his black hat and pattered down to the ground below. Tom frowned.

                Chewing on the bland gum merely to keep himself from going stir-crazy, Tom wondered what could possibly be keeping the people in the museum. Didn't they realise they had a deadline here? There was a global threat and they were sitting about in the dry warmth of a stuffy museum, probably enjoying a cup of tea.

                Tom grimaced, even as the great doors opened and four figures emerged, making their way steadily down the steps to the road. Tom could clearly see the outline of a man standing next to the automobile now.

                As the small group descended the steps, Tom used the time to study them.

                The first man was clearly foreign, and stood out as more than unique in the blue and white garments he was dressed in. The man wore an impressive cobalt turban on his head, and sported a scabbard at his waist. One of the man's weathered hands rested permanently on the ornamental hilt, and his face -hidden behind a thick black beard and moustache- and eyes were dark, stern and dangerous.

                The second man looked to be in stiff competition with the first for the title of the oldest.  He had visible lines of age and weariness on his face. He was dressed in colours of tan and brown, long -it looked leather at this distance- coat trailing around his calves above tightly laced boots. He wore a wide-brimmed hat that cast half of his face into shadow. He tilted it upward ever so slightly to reveal a white beard and moustache, and wise eyes that met the form of the automobile curiously.

                The third man was by far the most peculiar in appearance. His skin was deathly pale, as though it had been painted on. His broad, tall trilby sat at an angle on his seemingly bald head, keeping the rain off of him. Pince-nez glasses hid his eyes from view, though a pensive expression was visible on his white face. His skin was in fact a glaring contrast to the immense black that he had attired himself in: the trilby; the long, high-collared leather jacket; the gloves. But when Tom permitted his eyes to observe the style of the man's footwear, he stopped stock-still at once in puzzlement. Tom could see no footwear, let alone feet.

                He quickly pressed his gaze upon the last figure who was sheltered wisely under an umbrella. They shifted it slightly, and Tom cocked his head. By all possible meanings of the word, the woman was incredibly beautiful. Her skin appeared milky yet flawless, and though he couldn't be sure, he thought he saw dazzling blue eyes that would have put even Amy Lawrence back in Missouri to shame. The woman wore a veiled cap, a long blood-red scarf around her neck, heeled boots and a lengthy coat buttoned all the way up. She carried herself in an experienced and cautious yet graceful way that reminded Tom very much of a cat.

                The eyes of the second man travelled to Tom's side of the road and the two regarded each other for a moment, shortly before the four arrived at the automobile, and exchanged inaudible words of brief conversation amongst themselves and the figure waiting beside the machine. The only one who refused to speak was the woman. She, like the others, soon climbed into the automobile, and it started up with a whine and a roar that suggested meticulous engineering and unmistakable power. It started to pull away, rumbling and purring all the way, and Tom suddenly yearned to take it for a spin.

                Noting which direction they took, Tom stepped off the pavement, glancing discreetly this way and that before crossing the street away from his previous place of observation.

* * *

                Peering out from his shadowed hiding place down a side street, Tom glared, filled with hatred and the burning need for vengeance as he saw the masked, cloaked bulk that was the Phantom. The villain was moving down the street, 'minions' in quick formation pursuit behind him. They were making their way stealthily into the building the three men and the woman had entered. Tom had caught a brief glance of a pompous man in the doorway at their time of entrance, wearing an immaculate grey suit. Tom had decided right there that he did not like this man, though he wasn't sure why.

                Green eyes scanned the area for an oppurtunity, and he permitted himself a cocky grin when he noticed one of the Phantom's men was lagging behind, quite badly. He was fiddling with a weapon in his hands, as though it were jammed. Tom pushed the smile down, only now realising it was no longer raining, and emerged quietly from his hiding place. His movements were silent and swift from years of experience and practise, and soon he was standing behind the man. The figure had failed to notice him in the slightest.

                _Where did he find these guys?_

                Using the long barrel of one of the modified Winchester rifles he held in his hands, he tapped the man on the shoulder. The figure turned, seeing the young American standing behind him. Before he could call out a warning -having seen how stocked up on weaponry Tom was, after stopping by his temporary lodgings to pick them up-, he was slammed in the face by the stock of the second rifle. Tom shifted his grip, and laid the extra gun aside carefully, seeing the straggler reeling from the blow.

                Tom did not let the man regain his bearings enough for retaliation, and struck him again, knocking his helmet free of his head. Tom quickly followed with a swift punch to the jaw before hitting him one last time with the Winchester.

                The man fell limply to the floor. His weapon clattered to the ground, lost from his grasp and then everything fell back into silence. 

                Tom made short work of dragging the man into the building to conceal him from view, and then reclaimed the second rifle from where he had set it down.

                He cast off his coat and hat, covering the extra gun with them, and donned the long black cloak of the unconscious straggler, making sure it concealed his twin holsters at his waist. Tom scooped up the metal helmet and frowned at it before placing it on, pushing his blonde locks out of his eyes and face. Before gathering up the Winchester, Tom freed the comatose man of the bandana cloth around his neck, and tied it firmly about his own, pulling it up to cover everything below his eyes.

                Rifle in hand, he quickly clambered up the stairs to join the rest of the Phantom's men, glad the bandana hid his smile. These people really were quite dense. Though, in all fairness, they _had _diverted their attention to their targets. The five figures in the library below: the regal foreigner; the old leader; the white-faced man, who now, curiously, clearly showed nothing but air where the back of his head should have been; the beautiful woman; and the smug, suited man from the doorway.

                As Tom cocked the rifle, he recollected the events leading up to this moment, staring with his joining of the American Secret Service, and his partnership with his oldest and best friend, Huckleberry 'Huck' Finn. It was difficult to forget the main spur for his being here… the Phantom had killed Huck. Tom had travelled back to Missouri for the funeral, where Rebecca 'Becky' Thatcher had completely ignored him, as if she blamed him for Huck's death. That had hurt Tom deeply… especially since he was having trouble dealing with the guilt without her help.

                Pushing all these thoughts aside, he aimed over the banister; barrel finding its false target; the older man. Whether it was the sudden movement on the upper level or the sound of the rifle cocking, Tom wasn't sure, but the elder man took his focus away from the murderous, bragging Phantom and firmly established it upon this new rogue gunman.

                Adventurer and spy locked gazes then, and Tom winked.

* * *

**A/N2: **So now you see how the series would appear if it ever continues. I repeat what I said at the beginning, and tell you I will only continued this if I get enough encouragement. Remember it will basically be what I think was going through Tom's head during certain events in the movie, and some not shown. Now, for those of you who reached the line about chewing gum in confusion, let me stop you in your exclamations of 'They didn't have gum!'… because they did. In _'The Adventures of Tom Sawyer' _it clearly states that Becky gives Tom some gum, which he has to give back to her (eew). :) At first I thought it was tobacco and grimaced, but when I read that part in the book, I smiled. The part about 'Ford' _is_ true to some extent. They were in the process of a prototype car at this point in time, and it is my belief that agents of the American Secret Service would by privy to such information. Anyway, I've prattled on enough, and I thank you for reading… adding only a plea that you leave a review and give me your opinion :D Thanks!


	2. First Meetings

**Author's Note: **Okay, you all have to remember you _asked_ for this to continue, okay? If you regret your decision *hides behind cushion*, I take no blame :P Well, hopefully, you won't regret it, cuz if you do, then I'm doing something wrong as a writer. Thanks to **drowchild**, **Raven Silvers**, **Lissa**, **Soli **and **Hellcat** for their encouragement, and to **Sethoz** for faithfully reviewing every single **_LXG_** thing in my name : ) Thanks, pal! Okay, I'm going to automatically add reviewers to an update list, because this one will probably take me quite a while, because… let's face it, this is just a filler for me to creatively occupy my hours between writer's block for my other story 'Out of Sight, Out of Mind'. You know it, I know it… we _all_ know it! Anyway, readers of the **_LXG_** novelisation may well recognise little snippets throughout this series. Please tell me specifically if you do not wish to receive update notices. I won't be offended : ) *crosses fingers behind back*

**Scene: **This takes place from when the _League_ first see our dear Tom Sawyer in his entirety. I have added some bits, and just so you know, I did this all by memory, and even wrote out what I knew of the script (*cough* I have seen this film too many times!) and went from there. Starts off in Dorian's library, and finishes on the dock.

* * *

                "Damn."

                Tom had missed him, by a matter of inches, and he cursed himself all the way out of the loft of the extensive, and rather dusty house. He still held his Winchester in his hand, a prized possession, and the bandana was still tied firmly around his neck. He hadn't thought to take it off. He had done away with that stupid helmet the first oppurtunity he had got… and not a moment too soon. Talk about a hindrance!

                He was making his way down the rickety steps and through the murky rooms again when he heard conversation from down below. He supposed he should at least introduce himself to the people he had aided… maybe they would want to thank him. Tom doubted it.

                _Nobody ever wants to thank me. All they want to do is try and scold me for something I didn't do. I'll probably get blamed for starting off a firefight, knowing **my** luck!_

                 Tom was in the process of climbing down the steps to the main body of the library when he heard the hammer of a gun cock, and in a quick glance he determined he was in no danger himself. It must be in the centre of the room. Someone was in trouble. He heard the familiar, yet somewhat unknown sound of a sword drawing from its sheath, and that was when he made his -rather dramatic- entrance from behind the concealment of a library-shelving unit.

                Tom -through years of intensive training and practise- cocked the rifle one handed, letting go with all but his right hand in the finger lever; the gun rocked forward in his grasp, and another shot was loaded audibly into the barrel. He aimed quickly with ease, and saw the gunman eye him curiously, a little stunned by Tom's sudden and unannounced appearance. All others turned their eyes upon him as well: the old leader; the regal foreigner, and apparent martial arts expert; the invisible man in the black with a white face; and the smug, suited man with the cane-sword. Even the woman half-turned her eyes upon him, not having much freedom to move. She was being held at knifepoint by one of the Phantom's still-living gunmen, and she didn't look too panicked by this fact.

                Tom _had_ been going to say something along the lines of 'Let her go, mister, or I'll shoot you'… but on reflection this couldn't seem any more of a stupid thing to say. That surely would have made him appear adolescent, stating the obvious in such a juvenile and arrogant way. It went without saying… he pushed his mind along.

                "Shoot!" the gunman challenged, eyes ablaze with anxiety and certain eagerness. "Go on!"

                The people all around Tom began to withdraw their weapons from view. The regal foreigner relaxed his fighting stance to stand normally, though still visibly tense. The invisible man simply slumped his shoulders more, and raised his hands slightly to show he was unarmed to begin with. The grey-suited man slipped the sliver of metal that was his sword gently back into its scabbard, and released his uptight grip, letting it swing in his left hand. The old leader pushed the hammer forward once more on his Webley pistol and lowered it to his side, showing he was not one to risk the lady's life. The gunman looked to Tom. Sighing slightly, he mimicked the older man, pushed forward the hammer and held the gun out to his side, taking his index finger away from the trigger. He would not fire, and the gunman knew this… the triumph was unmistakable. Now what did he plan to do though? Even in a plain old fist-fight, Tom and the others had him seriously outnumbered. He sure didn't look like anything threatening, save for the knife.

                "I thought as much," he said to the woman more than anyone else, a wide manic grin spreading across his face, "that they would do anything to protect you."

                _So that's it… snag the lady and try to make a swift exit. Sneaky son of a…_

                But the woman spoke, and in soft, soothing tones that confused and eased Tom both at the same time; there was no fear in her words, "See, now that's your biggest mistake." 

                _Was that a growl?_

                "Thinking that _I_ need _them_ to protect me," she continued in a voice barely above a whisper. 

                Tom's eyes widened when he saw a deep red flushing through the woman's own pupils, taking over her entire vision, shortly before she whirled on him so swiftly it did not seem possible. Her speed was otherworldly. With a savage revealing of fangs she bit down into the gunman's neck, the latter still gripping his knife as if it would save him from his terrifying fate.

                _Oh my god_, was all Tom could coherently think as he half-stumbled back in shock and terror, an interesting mix of powerful emotions that surged through him. Even with all the suspicion he had believed in as a child, he had never in his life seen _anything_ like this before! Dead cats and Satan, howling dogs, ghosts and buried treasure had filled his days and nights back in Missouri, but now as a young adult, he never thought he would actually see anything like _this_… a vampire. A real life vampire! And a beautiful one to boot…

                The man gave a gargling strangled cry, shortly before the woman let him drop, bleeding madly to the ground. She stood growling hungrily, blood smearing her flawless face, before she threw her head back and dropped to her knees, face and fangs plunging forward to the man's neck again to continue her feed.

                _Not exactly what I signed on for… Huck would never have believed this! _

                Tom cast his eyes over to the old leader for a moment, who stood transfixed in a morbidly curious way, dark, wise eyes staring down at the auburn-haired woman, patiently waiting for her to finish. The invisible man looked oddly fascinated, in a horrified sort of way. The regal foreigner merely arched an eyebrow… whereas the suited man did not look in the slightest bit surprised. It even shocked Tom that the man was not smiling smugly for a change.

                The woman threw her head back again as she stood, and droplets of blood marred her face as she came up, wiping her lips and nose with gloved fingertips, and then licking them in a satisfied way that intrigued Tom, and made his stomach churn simultaneously. All traces of his own appetite faded away at once. The woman ran her hands through her hair, and pinned it quickly, with ease. It seemed as though she had done this many times… Tom really didn't want to think about that. The women withdrew a small folding mirror from her pocket, and opened it quickly.

                "Extraordinary," the foreigner commented dryly, before all fell quiet once again.

                _Say something… break the silence… this is **really** uncomfortable. God dammit, just crack a joke or something!_

                Tom smiled, mostly forced, and strode forward, feeling the weight of his Winchester in his right hand and said, "Boy… they told me European women had funny ways."

                _Smooth, Sawyer, **real** smooth._ He cringed internally, and saw five sets of eyes meet his face. He looked only at the woman, seeing the startling clarity of her blue pupils now, and he felt his throat go dry quickly, even after what he had just seen.

                Always the gentleman, he noticed a marring on her skin, and pointed it out, saying, "You missed a spot." He wiped his own face to give her a better indication, and she heeded his alert to the problem. She meekly wiped that part of her face with a fingertip, and hung her head a moment, hair pinned back now.

                "Excuse me," she mumbled, and then, as if remembering who had informed her of the blood, she turned her gaze upon him, asking, "and you are?"

                Pride filled him now, even after all his failings, and he found his left hand gripping the barrel of the rifle as he turned to regard the others as well. "Special Agent Sawyer," he informed them clearly, "of the American Secret Service."

                That was when the old leader took a visible interest in the situation, and -arms behind his back- strode forward a couple of measured paces, inquiring, "So America is aware of the situation?"

                Tom shrugged, and said the only thing that sprang to mind, "War starts in Europe, how long's it gonna take 'til it crosses the Atlantic?" He knew in his heart, like the rest of his American associates, that this was true. It would only be a matter of time. All eyes were on him now. He cleared his throat quietly and decided to press on, "I followed you," he revealed, and then waved to the vague area where the gunmen _had_ been standing before the combat, "I picked off a straggler, and then I took his place." He smiled at the old leader, who wore a ghost of a grin himself.

                The suited man chose that moment to speak, and Tom realised he had never heard someone sound so cocky in his life! It was an irritation from the moment the man opened his mouth to say, "Very noble." Sarcasm dripped like venom from every word. "But this is a _private_ party… and _you're_ not invited."

                _How mature…_ Tom glared discreetly.

                The woman glanced to her companions, a veiled smile on her lips. "Actually, Dorian has… declined." She looked momentarily to Tom, and then to the old leader. "So we are one shy of a full deck."

                Tom did not let his grin show. He did not want them to think he was some sort of over-enthusiastic Yank who leaped into every chance of adventure… which was sort of a good way to describe him… maybe.

                  "On the contrary," the man titled as Dorian interrupted with a slow drawl to his voice, "the battle was just the _spur_ I needed. That and the… thrill of a friendship renewed."

                Though Tom couldn't be sure, he thought the woman grimaced. Did he mean her? What was their past? He was suddenly _very_ eager to know any way possible. He did not like the meaning behind that phrase, and the way Dorian had said it… he didn't strike Tom as the trustworthy, let alone _likeable_ kind of man.

                Dorian turned his head once more to Tom, and with a smug smile, partially concealed, he persisted, "So you're _not_ needed."

                _And who said it was up to you, you stuck-up, poncy-_

                The old leader striding forward cut off Tom's train of thought… just as well. It hadn't had a pleasant conclusion. The experienced -for he truly gave off that impression- man held out a single hand towards Tom's prized rifle, and he offered it freely in both hands, turning it slightly so the other man could take hold of stock and barrel safely and firmly, which he did. The elder man held the gun up, and Tom was pleased to see a kind of intrigued admiration there as he sighted casually down its barrel, turning it this way and that in study.

                "Winchester," was all he said, and he had an accent… was that Scottish? Tom didn't know, and he wasn't about to ask, but he was almost certain. He had encountered a wide variety of people on his travels.

                "That's right," Tom confirmed, and the grin broke to the surface, manifesting itself on his face, "it's modified, American style." 

                _Why does it feel so damn good to say that?_

                The older man chuckled quietly. "American style shooting too."

                "Well, whatever it takes," Tom agreed, even as the rifle was handed back to him, stock first. Tom slid his fingers into the trigger guard and lever comfortably, and looked the other man in the eye. An idea struck him.

                _Don't smile… just **don't** smile… he'll see it's a lure. _

"If you like it," Tom began casually, and cocked his head slightly, smiling lopsidedly, "I brought two."

                That cinched it, apparently. The older man handed him back the gun fully, as if he had been waiting for this very offer, and nodded only once. With a sly smile of his own, he added, "You're in."

                The child inside of Tom wanted to cheer at this revelation, but the more mature part of him pushed that adolescent down and warned him to keep 'mum'… as he and his fellow schoolmates had called it back in his earlier youth. He nodded himself, not pushing his luck by saying thanks. He knew that the older man realised Tom appreciated it, and that was enough.

                Dorian sneered visibly, and Tom did not care. He was triumphant internally, and glanced half-heartedly at the suited man, as if to say 'serves you right'. 

                The older man cleared his throat, and all attention returned to him. He was very clearly the leader now, on closer inspection. There was an air about him that commanded respect and concentration, even from the easily distracted Tom Sawyer. Of course, this man had just done him a great favour, and he would probably never know how thankful Tom truly was. 

                "First meetings," he began in that thick, yet understandable accent again, and he held out his hand formally, "usually warrant introductions." A pause. "Allan Quatermain."

                Tom took his hand, feeling the firm confidence in the grip and pumped it in greeting. "Tom Sawyer."

                The next to stride forward to acknowledge Tom was the regal foreigner, and he half-bowed to the young man, saying, "I am Captain Nemo. Welcome."

                Tom nodded, and shook his hand also, though Nemo as he called himself, seemed reluctant to do so, as if it were alien to him. Tom smiled in a warm fashion, and that appeared to ease the Captain… captain of what though?

                 "Mrs. Wilhelmina Harker," the woman offered, and the two shook hands as well, though Tom tried to keep his grip on her a little longer than with the other men. Even from here, he could smell her enchanting perfume. Becky Thatcher was forgotten in a hasty instant.

                "Pleasure to meet you," he added to her in particular, and she caught the sincerity, and smiled with a delicate bow of her head for acknowledgement of the comment.

                Dorian was at their side in an instant, as if territorial, and he cut in, saying, "Dorian Gray. Charmed," and then he pulled Mrs. Harker off to the side. Tom glared after him, shortly before another voice won his attention.

                The accent was beyond casual, and lulled in certain points of the sentence. Tom recognised it, after staying in London for a few days… cockney through and through. "Rodney Skinner, gentleman thief, at your service." His arms were wide. Did he want a hug or something?

                Tom cocked his head, pointing loosely at his chest area, where it could clearly be seen underneath the leather jacket that there was nothing but air residing there. "And you're-"

                "Invisible? That's right… not for long though, hopefully, if all goes according to plan of course." He grinned in a manner that would even have startled poor old Aunt Polly. His charm was on overload, and the humour of this was not lost on Tom. He smiled and laughed quietly.

                "Let's not be hasty, Skinner," Quatermain told him, jabbing with a finger towards him, "we've got a ways to go yet before you can get your cure."

                "Cure?"

                "Long story, Agent Sawyer," Skinner drawled cheerily, "I'll tell you about it some other time, maybe."

                Dorian spun a matching bowler hat in his hands idly as he stood with Mrs. Harker. The latter looked rather infuriated by something, but soon it was lost beneath her dark beauty and curious blue eyes. "Shall we?" the man offered, and sighed heavily. "If I'm not mistaken, we _are_ running on a deadline here."

                Tom subtlely rolled his eyes, but he thought Mrs. Harker caught the display, and smiled slightly. He fought the urge to return it and said, "I'll just be a minute. I've gotta fetch some things."

                Tom made his way out to the place where he had laid his possessions, seeing the man was still lying there. He thought about revealing his position to Quatermain and the others… but he wasn't sure his stomach could take another vampire show of appetite. He threw off the bandana, practically ripping it from around his neck, and pulled off the cloak. He tossed them so that they landed on top of the insentient figure. Tom grinned, and retrieved his jacket, slipping it on quickly. He reclaimed his primary Winchester after that, slipped his hat on his tousled head, and scooped up the weapon he had promised to Quatermain. 

                _Well, Huck, I haven't known the guy too long, but he seems worthy of it._ Tom smiled at the memory of his friend, and then made his way back to meet the others, all of who were waiting for him. He had half expected them to make their escape whilst he had been gathering his possessions. He spun the secondary rifle, offering it stock first to Quatermain, who laughed lightly at the younger man's 'showing off', and took it in his firm grasp. He admired it in a veiled way, and nodded his thanks.

                Dorian Gray, impatient and perhaps even jealous of the instant bond Tom and Quatermain seemed to be displaying, huffed quietly and turned on his heel to the rear of the house. He patted his hat down securely onto his head as he went, swinging his cane out in front of him. Mrs. Harker openly rolled her eyes at the other man, and followed, Nemo making it out before her. Skinner shrugged with a grin and trailed after the woman.

                Tom glanced to Quatermain. The older of the two sighed, and Tom smiled slightly. He wasn't about to say how tired he thought Quatermain looked… he had just got himself a break, and he wasn't about to ruin it by running his mouth.

                Tom followed Quatermain to the rear of the house, and was the last to slip out of the wooden door, bringing them out onto a back entrance to the dock outside Dorian Gray's abode. Tom let his thoughts run once again, even as he listened to Dorian speak; "So what's the next port of call?"

                Tom tried to find the hidden meaning in that question, but failed. Why didn't he trust him?

                _Maybe it's because he's too sleazy to be a nice guy. I saw the way he looked at Mrs. Harker… something happened, and I'm determined to find out what. What does she see in a creep like him anyway? He's nothing but trouble._

                "Paris," Nemo answered, in loud clear tones that travelled all the way to the back of the procession as the six headed down the wooden steps to the dock below. "Only one more member to recruit."

                _Members, huh? Shame I wasn't invited… but then again, maybe we'd all be dead by now if I had been… I certainly wouldn't have been sneaking around following these people all day, that's for sure._

                "'Capture' is more the word," Quatermain corrected as they drew to the end of their descent. "And it will be quite the hunt."

                Dorian, Nemo, Skinner and Mrs. Harker reached the bottom of the stairs even as the woman said, "You make him sound like some sort of animal."

                _She's got a point_, Tom thought. _But then again, I've seen a vampire and an invisible man all in one day, so what else is possible?_

                Quatermain and Tom reached the dock then, and the former held his new gun in both hands as he commented, addressing the female vampire confidently, "Speaking thus, Mrs. Harker, your conduct a moment ago?" Tom rested the barrel of his own Winchester on his left shoulder comfortably, as he normally did when not using the weapon.

                Skinner chuckled quietly, and sidled his way up beside her, peering cheekily over her shoulder even as he said, "We're all… aquiver, with curiousity."

                Tom felt uncomfortable for the woman all of a sudden. He wasn't sure why, but something about Skinner's question just seemed misplaced. There couldn't be anything good to the end of this tale, he knew… but he simply waited as Mrs. Harker strode forward, further up the thrust of the dock.

                "Very well," she breathed upon realising all were equally curious as to an explanation. Not Tom though… he knew enough about myth and mysterious folklore to last a lifetime… he had had quite a colourful childhood, after all. "My husband was Jonathan Harker."

                _Married? Didn't see that one coming…_ Then he realised his mental blunder, and sighed. **_Mrs_**_. Harker, you idiot… of **course** she was married. Wait, she's a widow?_ Tom frowned.

                "Together with a professor named Van Helsing," she pressed on, her voice carrying eerily on the London evening fog, "we fought a dangerous evil. It had a name… 'Dracula'. He was Transylvanian."

                Skinner picked that moment to chime in and say something stupid; "Ooh, European?" he asked with humour in his words. "One of those radicals the newspapers love to report on?"

                Mrs. Harker's voice took on a dreamy quality, and Tom noticed she was removing a glove as she uttered, "I don't know, Mr. Skinner." She turned then, glove on her right hand removed and she delicately pulled down the high collar on her jacket. Tom grimaced, and then hung his head to hide his sympathy and disgust. So she _was_ a vampire. The scarred over puncture wounds on her neck confirmed _that_ much.

                "Is the vampiric _sucking_ of people's blood radical behaviour?" Mrs. Harker arched a feminine eyebrow.

                Skinner hung his head too, trying to look casual once again, as if in a futile attempt to hide his error. Tom glanced to the others. All of them looked uncomfortable to some degree… save for Dorian Gray. He was eyeing Mrs. Harker almost hungrily. Tom felt the desirable urge to wipe that look off his face… with his fist. Somehow, he managed to keep it contained. 

                "Ah," Nemo muttered suddenly, a thankful interruption in the silence, "our transportation is forthcoming." He sounded almost relieved. He proceeded towards the very edge of the dock. Curious, Tom pressed after him, coming up behind the man on their short journey.

                "A boat?" he asked inquisitively, glancing this way and that up the river for any signs of one. He saw nothing, and his confusion doubled.

                "It travels on water, if that's what you mean," Nemo agreed, but then glanced to Tom very oddly, almost with excitement. Tom raised an eyebrow, even as Nemo continued, "And _beneath_ it." He turned and crossed his arms, facing the gathered men and single woman.

                _What does he mean? What is this, some sort of rid-_

                Something monstrous burst out of the river's waters then, rising with such speed and suddenness that Tom almost fell backwards into Quatermain and Skinner, who now stood right behind him in awed observation of the rising spectacle. It was a ship of some description, though far more grand than any boat Tom had ever ridden on back on the Mississippi. Its gleaming hull displayed great depictions of relics and godly visages that found no place of understanding in his brain. It had a great conning tower that overlooked all, and water dripped and ran from every outward surface. It was a sight to behold… it really was.

                Many things to describe it ran through Tom's head, a selection of which were: astounding; impressive; well if that isn't the biggest damn ship I've ever seen I don't know _what _is… but off all these, the one that had to creep out of him was a simple, pathetic, "… whoa…"

                _Well that was perceptive, you dummy. You could've picked any word but that… but no… you had to go with the simplest thing you could find._ Tom decided right there and then to shut off his brain for a while. His mind went completely blank, and he could do nothing but stare up at the inspirational sight.

                Nemo turned his back on them, and held his arms aloft to show off what was clearly his greatest achievement; for it was obvious the man had created this… ship. "Behold!" he exclaimed proudly, "The Nautilus; Sword of The Ocean!"

                Tom still stared, jaw hanging open, mind still blank. This vast creation was just a bewilderment in itself, far outstripping the impressive automobile previously seen. 

                "Next stop," Nemo began in closing as a kind of triumphant announcement, "Paris!"

                With a slight whimper of amazement, Tom nodded feebly, and followed the others to board the Nautilus, mind still switched off lest he utter something worse than he already had. But he already knew, with everything he had seen in such a short space of time, even if he permitted himself to think, nothing would have happened anyway. 

                Surely nothing could top this…

* * *

**A/N2: **_OKAY_! Second part done… do you know how _long_ it took me to write this part? It has to be the _longest_ chapter I have _ever_ written, and boy, am I chuffed :D Didn't think I had it in me! Anyway, now that you've been so kind as to read it, please leave a review on your way out to let me know what you think. Thanks! Until next time…


	3. Meet Mr Hyde

**Author's Note: **Ooh… people like it! They _really_ like it! Which means they like _me_! I think… I hope anyway. *laughs* Okay… enough of that. Thanks _SO_ much to you guys who reviewed. Welcome to new people. I hope this pleases. I hope you don't mind that you're basically reliving the movie through Tommy-Boy's eyes. I hope you enjoyed the length of Chapter 2, as well. With any luck most of them will be this length. So anyway, I sat here at my computer, watched the film, and jotted down the bits I need : ) Such as, which bits I'm going to do, and notes. I cannot take credit for writing this one from memory I am afraid… sadly enough. Maybe it's a good thing though ; )

**Scene:** With this title, need you ask?

**Shout outs:**

**drowchild: **Ouch… oh, thanks : ) *takes uber-cookie* Thanks for the compliment, and the cookie of course. It's fun getting into Thomas' pretty head : D

**Sethoz: **Clezy? Hehehehe. Well, with all that was going on, can you blame him turning his brain off? *hands Sethoz some pom-poms* There ya go, buddy : D

**Raven Silvers: ***is covered in confetti* Wow… cool. I'm guessing I can't eat this stuff right? Hehe. Only kidding. Thank you muchly for your kind words and generous praise as always. *brushes confetti out of her hair and laughs*

**American-Agent: **Can't say the idea is _entirely_ mine. I'm reading the book _'A Walk To Remember'_, and after reading a fic of the film where… oh you get the idea : ) Glad you like. 

**sugaricing: **I agree with you on the whole Dorian thing. He's a bit… evil. But he's a cool character, and by writing this fic, I finally get to write for him! Kinda… I have also shut off my brain quite a few times : |

**RogueSparrow: **Definitely continuing, as you can see. Hehe. Guess I needn't have said that… on with the show!

* * *

                They were stopping alongside Paris, even as Tom walked through the belly of the Nautilus. Allan Quatermain had instructed him not to bring his Winchester along… apparently one rifle was enough. Tom had been told the basics, but not enough information to satisfy his curiousity. He was eager for more of the facts, but he knew that pressing the matter would only earn him glares. Only Tom and Quatermain were to go ashore, and the former knew he would be glad for the chance of fresh air. It was getting a little stuffy on the submarine.

                _I wish Quatermain had described this thing we're hunting more though… how do I know what to expect? How does he think I'll know exactly what to do?_ Tom sighed, and met Quatermain at the ramp down out of the Nautilus. The old adventurer was grinning ear-to-ear.

                "Well, boy, ready for a good old fashion hunt?" 

                _I wish people would stop calling me 'boy'. I'm almost twenty-six already! I am **not** a child._

                Tom nodded. "Sure. You gonna tell me what it is we're hunting?"

                "All I can tell you is that Dupin will be very appreciative for us to take it off his hands." Quatermain smiled that same knowing smile. It was starting to grate… not knowing everything. It was like the _League_ was holding back on him. Didn't they trust him? 

                "And Dupin is the Inspector, right?" Tom attempted to confirm as they strode out of the vast submersible. Some of Nemo's men saw them off, and started to close the vessel up even as they made their way into Paris' inner streets.

                Quatermain nodded his affirmation. "He's been trying to catch our quarry for quite some time… with very little success."

                "And what exactly is it that this thing is doing to cause such a hunt? Is it dangerous?"

                "Only if you're alive," Quatermain commented, and pressed on ahead. Tom halted for a moment, drawing his twin six-shooters all of a sudden, on the alert now.

                _Okay… I wish he'd included **that** in the briefing._

                Tom pursued Quatermain, noticing the way the man's posture had changed drastically. He was truly in his element, every sense tuned finely for this kind of situation. His head jerked to one side, and he pointed with his free hand, saying, "This way, Sawyer."

                Tom followed without question, trusting to the man's apparent instincts. He had used the time during the journey to brush up on the team. Quatermain was one of the world's most -apparently- famous adventurers. Mrs. Harker, or Mina as she sometimes preferred in casual conversation, was indeed a vampire; she had been married once, but her husband had died in the battle against the Count, Dracula. Nemo had built many wonders, including the Nautilus and the automobile Tom yearned to drive; he was a puzzling man with a dark past, most of which eluded Tom and the history books he had submerged himself in. Skinner… Skinner was a mystery in himself. He had stolen a formula for invisibility, and used it to heighten his skills in the trade of theft. Not very honourable, but it was keeping him alive… and now he was stuck that way until the British Empire rewarded him with a cure for helping out. And finally, Gray… Tom didn't want to dig too deep for fear of what he might find, but he had barely been able to scratch the surface. He had found -to be brutally honest- very little, even in the official files Quatermain had been granted. 

                "Come on," Quatermain called quietly over his shoulder, and that was when Tom first heard it. It was before he even saw it. He cast his eyes about wildly in a searching fashion to locate the owner of the roar.

                His eyes widened drastically when he saw the source. 

                _He can't be serious…_

                Tom swallowed dryly at the sight of the monstrosity. It was impossible that this thing was natural… but then again, as he had previously mused, he had already encountered a vampire _and_ an invisible man. What else was possible… this creature was real, tangible and running about the rooftops of Paris as though it was perfectly natural to do so. Of course, the monster was about eight feet tall from the looks of it, if not higher, and… was that a top hat? And a cane?

                _What the… is this a joke?_

                Sure enough, when the light of the moon shone down fully upon the creature, a mass of bulging muscles and sinewy limbs -save for its legs, which actually seemed at first glance too weak to hold up the mass-, it was dressed in tight-fitting black pants that seemed to be splitting at the seams from the strain, black formal shoes, a shredded dress-shirt, the tattered remains of a waistcoat or dinner jacket, and a gigantic top hat. He also carried a cane in his meaty left hand.

                It truly looked like a hideous parody of a travelling fair attraction… like the carnivals Tom had visited as a child, where he had seen gorillas and bears. 

                Tom pressed on after a moment's musing, and called out to Quatermain, "I don't see what we need a big monkey for."

                It was the only way to describe it in his eyes… the title seemed quite fitting.

                Quatermain called back without turning his head, his voice loud and clear, "Well this 'big monkey' had terrorised the Rue Morgue for months." Tom caught up to Quatermain, and the older man looked him in the face, an eager light in his wise eyes. "Imagine the mayhem he'll give the enemy!

                _Okay… so he's got a point. But what does he expect us to do? **Tame** it? It sure doesn't look friendly._

                Overhead, the monster leaped a giant gap in the street. Tom gaped at it, astounded. Quatermain took aim swiftly with his rifle, and let off a shot. A chunk of the roof exploded out from beneath their target.

                Tom frowned. "You missed!"

                "I'm not _trying_ to hit him," Quatermain snapped back, as if chiding Tom for not knowing any better. Tom glanced to the hunter, and furrowed his brow. Well how did he expect them to catch it?

                _Next thing he'll tell me, he's got a net! _

                The monster kept on running, its speed impressive but downright annoying. Tom and Quatermain pressed on in their hot-footed pursuit. For his apparent age, Quatermain could certainly keep up a good pace. 

                Quatermain took a brief aim again, and popped off a quick precise shot. "Turn left, Mr. Hyde."

                **_Mr._**_ Hyde? This thing has a **name**?_

                Surprisingly enough, in an instinctual reaction to the shot, 'Mr.' Hyde turned left. Tom was impressed, but did not voice it, else he slow them down in their hunt. Quatermain had already started off at a run again when Tom realised they were still in motion. He cursed his slack approach, and remembered that that had been the exact reason for many of his prior mistakes.

                _The last thing I want is to be ripped apart by this thing for not paying attention. I'll avenge Huck if it's the last thing I do… until then, I'm not taking any risks._ With this new sense of determination filling every fibre, he pulled around the corner, seeing the urging look on Quatermain's face. He gave a subtle nod to the left with his head, and gestured at Tom's drawn pistols.

                _Here goes…_

                Tom raised the guns, still running, and started shooting, each bullet crashing against the guttering beneath Mr. Hyde as the pursuit continued.

                _C'mon, you son of a b-_

                "Make him turn _left_, boy!" Quatermain called to him from a little way back.

                Tom kept on pulling the triggers, one after the other. _It's not like I'm not trying!_

                Finally, it seemed -just before Tom ran out of bullets- that Quatermain had tired of the lack of progress in the American's attempt, and he pushed Tom's right arm down. The firing stopped at once as a reaction, even as he heard the older man chide, "If you can't do it with one bullet, don't do it at all!"

                Tom was disheartened by that comment, but refused to show it. He didn't want to give off the wrong impression. If Quatermain had a plan, then let him carry it out, why not? He seemed confident enough, and Tom was curious to see what had made the man such a legend.

                He lifted the Winchester, and squeezed the trigger. Half of a chimney block erupted in Mr. Hyde's face, and he growled, turning away from the shot and its aftermath.

                Tom watched in dismay. "He's doubled back!" He stopped, half-raising a gun in emphasis as to the problem.

                "Precisely," Quatermain confirmed with a sense of veiled triumph. 

                _Dammit… he planned that. Why didn't he tell me? Could have saved myself some trouble._

                "C'mon," the other man encouraged, and took off once more. Tom was astounded the old man had so much energy in him. People back in Missouri of the same age had had trouble making it to church on Sundays, let alone chase halfway around Paris after a mutated gorilla… or whatever it was.

                Tom groaned, and followed once again. Another bend in the street, and Tom levelled with Quatermain as they turned it. He raised his pistols in preparation, in case the beast had decided to bring the fight down to their territory, but before he could comprehend the situation, his companion had bodily thrown him aside; moving with him urgently, and a hurried call of, "Look out!"

                It was only when Tom and Quatermain came to shelter theirselves underneath a balconied rooftop sticking out from the second storey of a dark building that the Secret Service agent fully understood what had happened. Mr. Hyde had cast a whole half of a chimney aside in his flight, and caused it to crash to the street below… exactly where Tom _had_ been standing. He would have been crushed.

                His heart racing, Tom cast his eyes about for their foe, catching sight of him watching them on a rooftop.

                _Did he just **laugh** at me?_

                "That was naughty…" Obviously, that hadn't been part of Quatermain's plan. That much was clear on his lined face.

                Tom, a little breathless now, and counting his lucky stars, turned to the more experienced adventurer. "Thanks," he said. 

                Quatermain looked back to him, pointing to his face with his index and forefinger, a warning gesture, a helpful one it seemed. "Eyes open, boy," he said.

                _Why does he keep calling me that…?_ Tom suppressed a groan of annoyance.

                "Can't protect you all the time."

                _I beg your pardon? Protect me? _Tom furrowed his brow. He hadn't realised that was part of the deal. _There's more to this guy than meets the eye. Why does everyone on this mission have to be such an enigma?_

                His attention back on their task, Quatermain eyed the rooftops, and then took a sniff on the night air. Tom narrowed his eyes, even as the other man said, with a smile, "He's afraid…"

                Then he was off round the corner again, even as Tom copied his actions, mumbling, "I can't smell anything." 

                Tom cocked his head, and emerged on the next street behind Quatermain, who had his new gun at the ready. It was raised, and Tom caught sight of the monstrous Mr. Hyde on the rooftop across from them, glancing down menacingly as if daring them to fire at him.

                Which is exactly what Quatermain did. One shot caused Mr. Hyde to leap to 'safe' ground across the way, but the barrel of the Winchester followed him, and Tom watched as his companion let off another shot.

                Bricks and clay flew in all directions as Quatermain succeeded in striking areas close to their target, never hitting the beast himself. The next shot slammed full-force into the chimney Hyde gripped for stability, and with a snarl, he glared at his attackers.

                _Go for his feet, Quatermain… his feet._

                As if on some unheard cue, that was precisely what the older man did. He lowered the barrel, and fired upon the slack guttering underneath Hyde's feet, where stacks of roof slates were dependant. In a mighty avalanche, the slates started to slide from underfoot, and Hyde roared in dismay as he went down with them, crashing to the ground in a heap of dust and growls.

                Tom let his jaw drop slightly at the sight. But Hyde was already making short work of regaining his footing. He was on his knees when Quatermain raised an arm to the sky, letting off a blinding flare. Tom followed it with his green eyes for a moment, and then heard the trap that Quatermain had been keeping secret as it sprung into swift and efficient action.

                _Well… might have been nice to know about **that** too. It's all a guessing game with these people._

                Hyde was wrapped in a net before he could act against it, limbs flailing madly in a rage, roaring at the top of his lungs as a rope tightened suddenly, pulling all corners of the snare into the middle, and dragging it away as if on a winch. 

                Tom took a single step back as the beast was dragged past them. He thought he heard a curse for a moment, but pushed it aside as his own mind playing tricks on him. After all he had seen recently, it was a wonder he hadn't gone mad. Tom watched the monster as it was dragged out of sight, and heard the subsequent slam of the Nautilus as it closed like a hungry mouth around the netted captive.

                "Perfect," Quatermain said with a sigh and smile, pocketing the flare gun again. "Welcome aboard, Mr. Hyde."

                Before he moved to follow, Tom caught sight of something at his feet, and the child inside made him reach down and pick it up curiously. He turned it this way and that, trying to fathom what sort of tailor _made_ top hats so big!

                _Maybe this **is **all a joke_, he thought as he tossed the hat aside, shrugging. It was a convincing gag if it was one… something inside of him doubted that though.

                He jogged up behind Quatermain. "So now what're you gonna do with him?"

                "He's going to join the _League_, of course," Quatermain replied with a sly smirk. 

                _Okay… now I **know** he's kidding. No one in their right mind would make that… that **thing** part of a team. It'd kill us all!_

                Of course, Tom didn't realise just how wrong he could be.

* * *

                Tom and Quatermain made it into the chilly ice room of the Nautilus roughly five minutes later. Their prize had already been restrained, and was making quite a show of displaying his rage and discomfort at the situation. 

                Tom wrinkled his nose at the smell in the room. Fish hung from hooks in clusters, and the chill did nothing to stem the stench. He thought he caught a whiff of cheap perfume on the air as well… but brushed it aside.

                _Now what? Try to talk to it? Doesn't look very intelligent… what **is** this thing anyway? No one's explained that to me yet._

                Tom and Quatermain came up beside Nemo, who held a rather intimidating spear in his hands. He brandished it as a weapon, along with about a dozen of his crew… who were slowly becoming nothing more than target practise for Hyde. He started slamming them aside with his great fists, sending them soaring through the air. Tom ducked underneath a hurtled crewman, and moved away from the armed Nemo. Quatermain took to pacing. Tom heard the previously airborne sailor hit the wall outside the room, through the door they had just used for an entrance.

                "Stay back," Quatermain was saying, and Tom glanced over his shoulder to see he was addressing the others, newly arrived, "if you value your life."

                Dorian was first to enter, still carrying his accursed cane, sword hidden neatly and cleverly within. He didn't look so smug all of a sudden, and Tom's spirits soared. So the man _was_ capable of shock. Skinner followed right behind him, eyeing Hyde through pince-nez as usual, but Tom could still see the arching of both brows in amazement. Mina was the last to appear, and she ducked through the doorway without a second thought as to her safety… not that she needed much protecting.

                They heeded Quatermain's previous warning, and stayed back at a safe distance. Mina stood off to the side, hands in pockets to keep the chill out, and watched. Hyde made a new effort to bruise and batter, sending more men flying like they weighed next to nothing.

                There was a crash, and a glance told Tom that Skinner had fallen to the ground, probably knocked over by a careening sailor. Dorian helped him up, but Tom saw Skinner snatch his gloved hand away as if wounded.

                "Ow," he grumbled, and stared through the dark glasses at Dorian Gray. "You _scratched_ me!"

                _Okay… don't tell me this guy is a werewolf or something, or I'll really lose it. _With a shrug, Tom turned to look at the thrashing Hyde again, but not before he heard Dorian's retort, "Better _me_ than _him_."

                Tom would never admit to anyone, let alone himself, that the smug man did have a point. Skinner would have done more than merely complained if Hyde had gotten his hands on him, invisible or not.

                _The way things have been going, it wouldn't surprise me if this brute can **see** Skinner._

                "Well this is nice," came the sarcastic drawl as Dorian noticed they were making little progress in 'taming' the beast. Tom rolled his eyes and sighed, thanking the crashing racket provided by Hyde for covering the subtle show of irritation.

                Quatermain took a step closer to the beast, and Tom nearly muttered a warning. Quatermain beat him to his voice, and said, commandingly, "Mr. Hyde." It was only meant to draw the monster's attention, and it succeeded first time. Clearly, the thing knew its title.

                _Is this someone's pet, or…?_

                Hyde started to pace, reminding Tom of a wild animal he had seen once in a cage. He almost smiled.

                Quatermain pressed on; "You've done terrible things in England."

                _Add another item to the list of unmentioned facts. This is starting to annoy. Would it hurt to share the information around here?_

                "So terrible," Quatermain continued, voice carrying around the room with startling clarity, "that you fled the country." There was a pause, where Tom noticed Hyde was actually _listening_. Was it capable of comprehending human speech? It did look frighteningly human.

                "And I'm ashamed to say that her Majesty's government is willing to offer you _amnesty_," Quatermain persisted, and this was where it appeared that Hyde's interest was peaked. The beady eyes met Quatermain as he concluded, "In return for you services."

                Tom glanced between monster and hunter, seeing something there that resembled understanding. 

                "You want to go home," Quatermain said, and it was not a question.

                Tom waited, and waited with the others for something to happen. It was as if Quatermain expected a response.

                And he got one.

                "Home," Hyde growled, and Tom subdued the urge to jump back in shock. "Home's where the heart is, that's what they say."

                Tom's eyes widened slightly in astonishment. It wasn't only speaking… it was _quoting_ now. It not only comprehended human speech, it was perfectly fluent. But it didn't stop there.

                The beast continued, "And I have been missing London so. Its sorrow, is as sweet to me as a rare wine."

                Tom couldn't stop staring. He swallowed again. _Okay… now I've seen everything._

                Hyde loomed towards Quatermain, but the hunter did not flinch as the monster growled, "I'm yours."

                Mina, off to the side of the room, raised a feminine brow and gave a small sound of surprise. The dark eyes of Hyde met the faces of the _League_, and he shook his head slowly.

                "Don't be afraid," he told them, and his voice was almost gentle.

                _Don't say it, Sawyer… you'll regret it._ He couldn't stop himself. "Who says I'm afraid?" he asked cheekily with the grin to match.

                Hyde roared, and the words, "_You_ do!" could be made out, even as he wrenched one mighty arm around in a great arc. The chain ripped out of the wall with it, and Tom's eyes shot wide open as he realised its target. 

                _Duck!_

                And he did, just in time to feel the heavy chain whip right over his head and clatter noisily against the wall to his right. Tom brought his head back up suddenly, thoroughly dishevelled and shaken, his hair in a great mess of locks on his head. He stared in shock at Hyde. He certainly hadn't expected _that_.

                "You _stink_ of fear!" Hyde bellowed at him, and Tom made a mental note to _never_ antagonise the beast again, for fear of losing something precious… like his head for one. He shrugged his coat back onto his shoulders, and kept his mouth shut. He didn't trust it to not utter something stupid that would cause him another near-decapitation.

                Dorian was smiling though, thoroughly amused. The urge to punch his smug face swelled in Tom again, even as Gray commented, "Quite the parlour trick."

                _Typical_, Tom thought when Hyde did not react violently, _why does everybody always take a swing at me? Aunt Polly, the Phantom… Hyde. It's people like Gray who deserve it most of the time._ Tom frowned, but tried to hide his disappointment.

                "You wait 'til you see my next one," Hyde said, but his voice was strained now, as though the effort of speaking at all was hurting him. His head was craned to one side, and the veins were showing clearly. He started to groan loudly, as if pained.

                Tom physically took a step backwards as Hyde convulsed, tossing this way and that in a great thrashing of agony, roaring and screaming. Tom watched in horrified fascination as Hyde started to mutate, great parts of him deforming and twisting. He started to visibly shrink back into himself, and he looked disgustingly out of proportion now. Tom grimaced.

                All around him the rest of the _League_ reacted similarly. The look of surprise was back on Gray's face, but Tom took no gratitude at this point. He was too appalled, although he did try to hide it.

                Before long, the convulsions started to lessen, and with a final jerk and a scream, where Hyde once stood there was now a frail-looking man. He had chestnut hair, slicked back with sweat, and dark eyes that were saucer-wide in shock. He gasped loudly, and then collapsed to his hands and knees, panting audibly, his chest heaving.

                _Now **that**… I didn't see coming._ Tom's brain was starting to annoy him again, but he thought it best to keep it coherent in case the man decided to transform again, if that was possible.

                Before them on the ground, the man started to pick himself up, casting the useless chains -for they were now far too big- off of his lean frame, along with the scraps of the white shirt and black jacket. He had the presence of mind to snatch at the waist of his pants to keep them from falling, adding to his embarrassment. 

                It came as no surprise when this man, this tangible, real man spoke, but it was with a quavering voice that he did so; "Doctor Jekyll…" he managed through the shaking, "at your service."

                _Jekyll and Hyde, huh? Has kinda a ring to it. _Tom almost smiled at his ridiculous thought, but he was still too preoccupied with trying to conceive how such a thing was possible. He wasn't getting very far with his reasoning.

                Quatermain turned to his fellow companions and smiled. Dorian Gray and Skinner returned the gesture. Tom just shrugged, and Mina cocked her head.

                "So…" Quatermain began satisfactorily, "the _League_ is set."

                _So it would seem_, Tom thought wryly. _Why do I suddenly feel awfully plain?_

                A sharp bell and the clicking of a communication device on the wall behind Nemo interrupted his reflections on this subject. The captain turned to tear off the slim strip of paper protruding from the device, and his dark gaze cast over it for only a moment, before he announced, "And so is the date for the conference."

                Tom had almost forgotten about their goal. He felt a little sheepish.

                "We have three days," Nemo concluded, and he didn't seem in the slightest bit alarmed by this revelation.

                Tom however, was thinking on a different track, and he crossed his arms over his chest and laughed lightly. "Three days?" he repeated disbelievingly, and then eyed Nemo curiously. "Can this canoe do that?"

                Nemo stared.

                _Okay… maybe it wasn't the best idea to call this thing a 'canoe'. He obviously didn't appreciate that wisecrack._ He made up his mind to watch his references to the Nautilus carefully when around Nemo.

                "You underestimate the Nautilus, sir," Nemo informed him with a knowing smile, "you underestimate her greatly."

                It was with that shrewd comment that Nemo decided his presence was no longer needed. He departed the room, motioning for his men to return to their stations. They did so quickly, without hesitation. Mina raised a brow again, nodded to her associates and then left also, followed shortly by an all-too-eager Dorian Gray. Skinner shrugged heavily under his leather jacket, tipped his hat, and disappeared out of the door. 

                Tom glanced to the remainder of his company, and smiled wanly. This was all getting far too confusing. 

                Over the silence, Jekyll's voice took precedence, cutting through the atmosphere like a knife, drawing the eyes of the hunter and the spy to him.

                "May I have a glass of water?"

* * *

**A/N2: **Well… that took me a while. Another lengthy one too : D Excellent. Bodes well, doesn't it? Don't forget to leave your thoughts and opinions on the way out ; )


	4. Out of His League

**Author's Note: ** Well… my apologies for this one taking so long. I had a bit of a memory problem with the scripting of this one, and I sat there with my hands hovering over the keyboard for _ages_ before I remembered the wording… that and the novelisation suddenly came in **_very_** handy. This one will have quite a bit of original content, so I hope you're not all too disappointed with my rendition of what Tommy-Boy did with his time off-screen ; )

**Scene: **From Mina's shooting Tom down on his offer to assist her, up until the target practise.

**Shout outs:**

**drowchild: **Sounded as though you weren't very impressed there… hope this one pleases you more. : S

**Beck2: **Yup… Jekyll and Skinner… gotta love 'em. They do try, bless their little hearts. *cough* Anyway… I figured, if _I_ were Tom, I'd feel rather plain with all that supernatural/famous company… wouldn't you?

**sugaricing: **Adorable?  Cool :D I think I might have been aiming for that, but it's good to hear it anyway. Many times when I first saw it, with the looks on his face I wondered what he was thinking and just wanted to hug the poor guy! And you _are_ correct… Jekyll's expression does scream, "Hug me!" As for the update notices, you're perfectly welcome *bows*

*listens to Shane West's band, and then remembers what she was doing* D'oh!

**Silent Bob 546: **Don't worry… you'll get more of Jekyll in all his fumbling glory… when he's in a scene with Tom next ; ) He features ever so briefly in this one.

**Raven Silvers: **I make him out to be sweet? Dear Raven, he _is_ sweet! Look at him! *cough* Okay… I'm calm now. You should try this sometime, writing out the film again… you get to replay one scene through your mind over and over, and over, and over, and over… *is washing off confetti*

**Panzergal: ***is scared by her Underworld CD* Ack! *pause* Sorry… that scared me for a minute. It was a bit heavy for a second. Thank you kindly! I do try…

**Sethoz: ***watches you with the pom poms* Ah yes, *sigh* THE hat part. How I love it. Should have made more of that brilliant moment actually… ah well. I do wonder where Hyde got that though : S The thoughts are just spur of the moment, and I try to get _in_ his head. Being a performer, I should be able to do that… despite the gender difference. It's still a character, right? ; )

**RogueSparrow: **Personalised Tom? That's one way of putting it, yeah. Quite a good way actually. Cool. Ah yes… _"I'm **not** a child"_… hehe. That was an impulse. Apparently quite a funny one : D Keep an eye out for it again, maybe. 

* * *

                Tom was still a little tired when he woke and dragged himself out of the bed the following morning. Though for once he had had quite a comfortable night's sleep, he was still somewhat groggy upon waking.  It just seemed time to rise… though he far from shone. He looked a mess, and really didn't have the energy to do anything about that. One look in the mirror and he seriously contemplated retreating back under the covers… and he would have done, were it not for the knock on his door from one of Nemo's many crewmen offering him breakfast.

                Tom threw on a robe from a hook by his bathroom, and tried to clear his blonde hair from his eyes as he opened the door. The shaft of light that assaulted his eyes made him squint immediately, and it took him a moment to regard the crewman. He didn't know any of their names, and suddenly felt a little guilty for not being able to address him politely by at least a title of some kind.

                _Might want to look into that_, he thought. He regarded the crewman curiously, and then noticed the tray of food he had in his hands. The man smiled, and half-bowed his head.

                _I wish they'd stop doing that._

                "Thanks," he muttered, and accepted the tray. He had already made a royal mess of his cabin, and didn't want the man to come in and set it down for him. Whatever it was, it smelt damn good though. "Um…" he mumbled, looking up and down the corridor, seeing quite a bustle of sporadic activity, "do you know what the time is?"

                "It is roughly nine o'clock, sir," the man replied, bowed again, and walked away.

                Tom watched him go, blinked once, and then retreated back into his room, having the presence of mind to activate a lamp. He set his breakfast down on the table, and groaned.

                _I wonder what Aunt Polly would have thought about me sleeping in so late on a weekday. _Tom smiled, and moved about getting dressed before settling into his morning meal. He had to admit, he was pretty hungry. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten a solid meal… another fact that would have driven poor old Aunt Polly right up the wall if she'd known… if she were still alive.

                With a sigh, Tom Sawyer got dressed.

* * *

                With the apparent fair weather outside, Tom had taken it upon himself to visit the conning tower to get a little fresh air. Something about being submerged for hours at a time unsettled him, and he knew that if he didn't see the sky or the sun soon then he might lose his breakfast. So it was that he pushed open the door to the tower, and stepped out, taking a lungful of the fresh sea air and smiling gratefully, glancing this way and that to take in his surroundings.

                Quatermain was to his left, and Tom took it upon himself to hover around the man. There was an aura around him that seemed to call to Tom and pull him over, and he closed the door behind him. He stepped up beside Quatermain, and said, "Morning."

                The old adventurer was sighting down the barrel of the elephant gun he treasured, and did not speak for many long moments, but when he did, it was quiet, "That it is."

                Tom frowned. _O-kay_, he thought, _what's all that about? Did I do something wrong now?_

                Quatermain gave him a sidelong glance, and half-smiled at the edge of his mouth. "Sleep well, Sawyer?"

                _At least he didn't call me boy this time. _Tom nodded, saying, "Fine. Pretty good actually." He scratched his head subconsciously, disturbing his already dishevelled locks as they tumbled about his head in the light breeze. "Just takes a little getting used to." He sighed contently, and turned his back on the railing, leaning on it with his elbows and putting his body in a casual slouch. Quatermain smiled, but did not speak.

                Slowly, the conning tower attracted more and more members of the _League_, and they filed out of the doorway sporadically here and there, floating off to their spots around the railing's edge. Doctor Jekyll -for he had divulged this title after calming himself from his transformation from Hyde- was the first of said people to arrive, dressed primly in -what looked like- a dinner suit, hair tidied and slicked to one side. He disappeared around the other side of the tower out of view after nodding his greeting to Tom, who smiled.

                Next to appear was Captain Nemo, looking alert and regal as always, and he too glanced around mysteriously and then vanished behind the tower where Jekyll had disappeared not long before. Tom watched them curiously, trying not to look as if he was prying too much. He didn't want it to appear as though he were staring.

                _Last thing I want is for people to start hating me because I'm nosy too_, Tom thought without humour, even as Mina Harker came into view. She glanced at him, gave him a half-hearted smile of greeting, and then proceeded to the thrust off to Tom's left, watching everything disappear behind the Nautilus. Tom watched her, transfixed. He didn't even notice Skinner's arrival until the door clanged shut noisily, making him start slightly. Tom shook his head, and went back to watching Mina discreetly. Even though her back was turned, Tom thought she might be able to sense his eyes on her.

                Then something struck him, a sudden thought, and he furrowed his brow deeply in confusion. Mina was a vampire… it was morning… the sun was out. From what Tom knew of vampires, sunlight was fatal to them. They could only come out at night.

                _Well bang goes **that** theory._ Tom frowned, a little piece of his childhood belief shattered.

                Tom didn't even notice Quatermain giving him another sideways glance as he popped open the barrel of the elephant gun, peering down it to check for blockages. It was only when he spoke that Tom remembered the other man was even there; "She's out of your league."

                _Very funny_, Tom thought, still staring, _league… I wonder if that was an intentional witticism. _Tom shrugged it off for his own thoughts, looking into the matter too much, and almost grimaced when none other than Dorian Gray came on the scene. The suited man was strutting over to Mina without a care in the world, and he spoke her name to grab her attention… and it succeeded.

                _Why didn't **I** think of that?_ Tom cursed his lack of initiative and sighed, watching the two figures, trying to make out their words. The wind tore their voices away from his ears, and he heard nothing, much to his chagrin. 

                Of course, his spirits lifted considerably when he heard Mina speak, and it was to Dorian in a cool voice, "Don't flatter yourself, Dorian."

                Tom smiled, and shoved off the rail with his elbows as Mina made to retreat from the conning tower. As he moved away, he spoke to Quatermain almost cheerily, saying, "Fortune rewards the bold." Quatermain gave him a calm glance, and Tom grinned, moving over to intercept the woman before she reached to door.

                "If you require any assistance during the voyage, Mrs. Harker," Tom began in his best confident tones, trying not to sound too cocky after she'd shot Dorian down, "just ask." He smiled at her.

                _Okay… she's looking at me. She hasn't told me to get lost, so that's a good thing… but now she's taking a little too long to reply, and she's staring right at me… a little unnerving._

                "I'm curious, Agent Sawyer," she said at last, and Tom was a little wary about her tone, " as to how you think you'll assist me."

                _Okay… think of something quickly, Sawyer._ Tom glanced about in search of something to use as an example, and his eyes rested on the locking mechanism of the door leading out of the conning tower, a spherical wheel. "Heavy lifting," he offered, and moved to open the door for her. The wheel was a little stiffer than he'd imagined it would be, and at first he had trouble even turning it. Then it came free with a jerk, and he turned it, and pulled it open wide enough for her to enter, persisting as he did so, "light banter." He grinned at her, the grin that he had used thousands of times in his youth to disarm poor old Aunt Polly. "I'm a useful kinda guy." He realised only then how thick his accent had become for a moment. He almost flushed at the thought of it; glad it had softened over the years.

                Mina cocked her head at him with a smile.

                _That's a good sign. _

                "You're sweet," she told him softly. Then her smile fell slightly.

                _Wait… not so good._

                "And you're young," she added, her voice harder, more matter-of-fact. "_Neither_ are traits that I hold in high regard."

                _Pardon? How can sweet and young be bad compared to slimy and cocky?_

                With that though, even as Tom's smile fell and he frowned pensively, Mina pushed her way through the door and was gone. Tom looked on after her longingly, and sighed.

                Dorian had turned from his place of observation by the table that held a bowl of fruits, and popped a grape into his mouth delicately with a smile. As he chewed on the fruit, he walked towards the open door, and patted Tom on the shoulder. The look -feigned sympathy- made Tom's fist clench. Dorian walked through the doorway.

                _I wasn't holding it open for you_, Tom thought, and he wished he had said it. So far, he'd let Gray trample all over him… and he regretted it. It made Tom feel small, and it probably made him look it too. _Why didn't I just kick him on his way through?_

                Nemo was in front of him before he could think further or the matter, and Tom looked the captain in the face. The man spoke, confidently and clearly, announcing, "The solar panels are fully charged. We'll be diving in a moment."

                With a resigned sigh, Tom shook his head discreetly, and then walked on through the door he had been holding open. He started descending the steps back into the belly of the Nautilus. He wished he hadn't said anything to Mrs. Harker… that he had just kept his mouth shut instead of trying to impress her. He should have guessed, after being involved with a man like Dorian Gray -for that was the only conclusion he could come to- that he must have looked quite… insignificant in comparison. Maybe he was just too ordinary for her.

                Thoroughly dejected, Tom took it upon himself to return to his cabin and make an attempt at cleaning his guns should they be needed in the near future. But before he could even get as far as five steps away from the steps, he heard conversation from the two oldest members of the _League_. Despite his best intentions not to pry, Tom found himself turning and listening.

                It was Nemo and Quatermain, discussing the Phantom. Tom felt inclined to walk over, compelled to find out what it was they were talking about in detail. The two men noticed Tom standing close by, even as Jekyll and Skinner walked away, talking about something concerning potions… Tom didn't really pay attention to _that_ conversation. It interested him little. 

                Tom looked between the two wise faces when they fell silent and regarded him, and he cleared his throat, "Sorry. Couldn't help but overhear."

                Quatermain nodded slowly, and started to walk with Nemo down the corridor. Tom couldn't deny the urge to follow, hands in his pockets, and he trailed behind them like a third shadow. 

                _Calm down… they'd **say** if they didn't want me tagging along, right? They wouldn't just let me follow after them like some lost dog._ A pause. Tom frowned. _Or maybe they would, just to see my reaction when they shoo me away. No… these people are more mature than that. Maybe Gray would do that, but not Quatermain… he seems to… what's the word… tolerate me, and for now, I'm perfectly happy with that much._

                Tom followed right behind Quatermain into a formal room with pillars and white walls. It smelled of delicate fragrances, like perfumes once sampled on the night air in cities long forgotten to Tom's mind. But this was different… there was something soothing about the scents, and Tom felt a little more at ease, despite the talk of the Phantom.

                Nemo walked right up to a door in the wall. A safe, Tom realised. Nemo blocked the view to the locking device when he put in the code to open it. 

                _Safety conscious, that one._ Tom walked slowly, further into the room with Quatermain beside him. The other man had picked up a file from somewhere, and handed over his prized hunting gun to one of Nemo's men to return to his room. Tom guessed that was also where the file folder had come from as well… there really wasn't any other way to explain it.

                A crewman started clearing away some silverware off of a table with a tray, silently going about his work without a care in the world… other than keeping his captain happy. Nemo barely acknowledged the man as he drew a large black book from the safe's innards and held it aloft. "The plans the Phantom stole from the Bank of England," he announced in explanation. He lifted them slightly once again for emphasis. "These are copies."

                Tom and Quatermain moved closer to get a better look. The crewman walked away, tray in hand, and disappeared from sight, even as Nemo laid the book on the vacated table. He flicked it open with care and delicate movements of his hands, and Tom nearly whistled in admiration at the drawings depicted within on yellowing pages, precision work that had surely taken one man many laborious hours.

                "Da Vinci's blueprints of Venice," Nemo informed them, and Tom nodded his head slowly, though no one looked at him. He felt better for showing acknowledgement anyway. "Its foundations," Nemo pressed on as he turned pages, "and waterways."

                A thought struck Tom then, and he decided it was time he spoke up; "So he'll attack the conference by sea."

                They knew whom he was referring to. It was hard to confuse the matter. Neither spoke though, simply exchanged glances over the illustrated leafs in the book. Nemo gave a subtle nod that Quatermain and Tom both noticed.

                _At least we're all on the same track_, Tom thought. _Maybe now we'll start getting somewhere, instead of waiting around whilst the Phantom plans a world war. _The thought made Tom shudder, though he suppressed it as much as possible. He didn't want to show he was afraid… he wanted to show he was ready for action.

                Quatermain seemed to catch his expression, and regarded him for a moment. Tom did not shift, simply glanced to the old adventurer momentarily, and sighed.

* * *

                The rest of the day passed without much incident. No one was willing to eat together, it seemed, and everyone took dinner in his or her cabin… Tom included. He didn't want to be antisocial, but he wasn't going to sit in the somewhat grand dining area on his own… even if Nemo or Quatermain did show up. He thought he had pestered them enough for one day, and they needed their privacy to talk about _League_ matters between themselves.

                Sighing, Tom stabbed at the seafood plate, sitting at the desk in his cabin, and leaned his head on his hand, elbow on the immaculate wooden surface. Suddenly he didn't feel so hungry.

                _I just want to get this over with_, he thought suddenly, and puzzled over his reasoning for this for a while, until coming to the inevitable conclusion that he felt badly out of place. He seemed incredibly ordinary and inconsequential around the others. An invisible man; something similar to an immortal in the form of Dorian Gray -Quatermain had explained, though Tom cared very little-; a famous adventurer; a sea captain; a man with a monster inside of him; and a vampire.

                _What am I compared to all that?_ Tom's frown deepened, and he put the fork down, no longer interested. He stood from the desk, and walked over to the neat bed… one of Nemo's crew had come in and tidied during his absence, which Tom wasn't entirely comfortable with. But considering the hospitality he had been greeted with, he thought it best not to quibble about it. _How can I even begin to compete with their… individuality? I'm just some brash American who jumped into all of this with a few guns… they have Quatermain for that._ Sighing, he lay back heavily, rubbing his eyes with his hand. He groaned quietly.

                _Now what do I do? No appetite… everyone is doing their own thing. I need something to occupy my time._ He cast his eyes about upon sitting up again, and let them rest on the prized Winchester he had had in his possession since joining the Secret Service. He and Huck had both had identical pieces. He cocked his head. _Why not?_

                So he took it upon himself, in his thorough boredom and feelings of inadequacy, to clean the gun as much as possible without the worry of jamming it or overdoing the job.

* * *

                The next morning, Tom was awoken by much the same ordeal from the day before. A crewman of Nemo's knocked on his cabin door with breakfast in hand, and took away the tray from the previous evening whereas Tom had forgotten all about it. There was little he could do about preventing the polite man from coming in that morning. Tom simply hadn't answered the door in time, and had called for the person to come in.

                _A bit stupid of me really_, he realised. At least he had been mostly dressed at the time, in the process of buttoning his white shirt. 

                When the man was gone and the breakfast eaten, Tom went about dressing himself properly. He pulled on his black waistcoat, leaving it unfastened. The shirt was not done all the way up either, only to his chest. Tom yawned, ensuring his pants were done up all the way… the last thing he needed was embarrassment in general. Satisfied, he paused a moment at the braces hanging unused at his belt.

                _Why do I bother with these things anyway? I never **use** them._ Tom furrowed his brow, shrugged and made his way from the cabin. Nemo's crew would take the tray away… he didn't have a clue what to do with it himself anyway, so there was no point in trying to return it to the kitchens… wherever _they_ were.

                Tom sighed, and wandered the corridors blindly, yawning slightly here and there and thinking seriously about going back to bed, for what little good it would do him. His Aunt Polly had always warned him about getting too much sleep. Apparently it was bad for him. With a shrug, he made his way in the general direction of the bridge. Maybe he could find out from Nemo how far off they were from Venice. Tom was getting itchy for action.

                But before he could even enter the brain of the Nautilus, there came a booming crack of a sound from above on the tower. Tom paused at the door of the bridge, and glanced to the ceiling as if it would provide answers. A pause, and then another muffled explosion.

                For a moment, Tom was concerned, and his mind ran in feverish circles for an explanation. Then he grinned.

                _Might have told me he was going to do that… _

                Smile still on his face, he turned to go to the stairs to the tower, when Nemo poked his head out of the bridge door behind him. "Is that Quatermain?" he inquired with a knowing light in his eye.

                Tom nodded, turning back, hands in pockets.

                "I thought as much," Nemo pressed on, nodding himself. "I gave him the use of a projectile targeting device, though I did not expect it to be so loud. I assume you are going to join him?"

                _Is it **that** obvious?_ Again, Tom simply nodded.

                "One thing to keep in mind, Agent Sawyer," Nemo warned, and something dark came over his face, as if a warning brewed within him, "take care how you address Mr. Quatermain. He is a very secretive man… he hates the British Empire, and I have no doubt there is a grave reason behind it."

                Tom's brow furrowed. "You don't know why?"

                Nemo shook his head back and forth. "I do not, and thought it not my place to ask. Good day, Agent Sawyer." The door closed before Tom could ask about their arrival in Venice. He cocked his head, and turned to go to the stairs again.

                He climbed them with cautious haste, and pushed open the door upon completing his short journey. The sun shone down beautifully again, and there was very little breeze. The first sight to greet Tom's green eyes was one of Nemo's men standing beside a very peculiar device indeed. He couldn't fathom its origins, or its design, though Nemo had explained its purpose. 'A projectile targeting device', he had called it. 

                _Well that's one way of putting it._

                Quatermain was aiming over the side of the tower's railing, as he had done the day before, but with the gun fully loaded now, Tom knew. The sound had told him that much. Squinting out to sea, Tom noticed a bobbing red buoy with a flag on its top. Tom raised an eyebrow… Quatermain was planning on shooting _that_?

                "Did you want something?"

                Tom looked to Quatermain, seeing nothing but the back of his head. He must have heard the door close. Tom shrugged, shaking his head. "No," he said, lying through his teeth. Quatermain didn't need to know that though. "I was just wondering why you signed up for all this."

                _There we go… the truth never hurt anyone… apart from Aunt Polly, Becky Thatcher-_

                The deafening crack of the elephant gun being fired completely shattered the remains of Tom's train of thought, and he covered one of his ears from the resonance. 

                _Now **that** was loud!_

                Trying to ignore the ringing in his ear, Tom pushed the matter further, as far as he dare, "Nemo told me you hate the British Empire."

                "They called and I answered," came the bland reply of Allan Quatermain and he looked out at the space where the red buoy _had_ been. Tom was impressed he had managed to hit it… at his age.

                "Yeah, but that ain't all of it though, is it?" Tom inquired, just trying to get some answers out of the adventurer, if that was possible. Quatermain seemed intent on dodging the subject.

                He also seemed determined to ignore Tom now too, as he called to the crewman.

                Instead of the tradition 'pull' Tom was accustomed to, the word came out in a foreign language that the American guessed was Nemo's native tongue. 

                "Salau!" Quatermain urged, and there was loud clunk, and a fresh flagged buoy soared over the waves and crashed down in the distance, hundreds of yards off. Tom raised an eyebrow, and then frowned when the silence descended.

                "Sorry I asked." Tom started walking towards the railing now, realising he had intruded on Quatermain's apparent need for peace and quiet during his target practise. He leaned on the cool metal, arms crossed, glancing out at the soothing waters below as they cut through them with ease. 'Sword' really was an accurate name for the Nautilus.

                There was a delicate clang as the barrel of Quatermain's gun came down to rest on the railing, and the other man sighed heavily. His need for peace and quiet seemed lost, as he said, "A few years ago…" he paused thoughtfully, "the Empire approached me with a mission for Queen and country."

                Tom smiled. 

                _Finally… now we're getting somewhere._

                "Well that's like the morning ride to work for you, I'd imagine," he said, turning to lean his back and elbows on the railing instead, head turned to Quatermain. Tom was surprised the other man had decided to divulge information… _personal_ information at that. He had always seemed so secretive before. Why the sudden change?

                Quatermain ignored Tom's comment, it seemed, and continued on his own track of thought, "I signed on without hesitation." He was still staring out, almost in a trance, at the waves. There was a slight waver in his expression as he said, "I even took my son along."

                _Son? That's new…_

                "I led… he followed."

                Tom noticed the shadow come over Quatermain's face. _Uh oh…I don't like this._

                "He died in my arms."

                _Dammit!_ Tom looked down at his boots, suddenly feeling very small and stupid. Quatermain had a veiled sense of sorrow about him now, and it penetrated Tom's exterior, making him feel even worse. He couldn't help but feel guilty for bringing something so melancholy up. Huck flashed into his conscious mind then, and the sorrowful feeling grew intensely.

                "After that," Quatermain persisted, "I washed my hands of England, the Empire… and the legend of Allan bloody Quatermain."

                **_Why_**_ did I push it? **Why?**_

                Silence fell upon the two men then, Nemo's sailor looking out over the water in his moment of freedom from launching targets. Tom was surprised when Quatermain spoke again, and it wasn't a stern 'go away'.

                "Now," he began, and he lifted the elephant gun from the railing. When he continued, Tom could have _sworn_ he was mocking him by trying on an American accent; "Would you like to learn how to shoot?"

                Tom narrowed his eyes, smiling slightly, and took a moment before he said, looking back at Quatermain, "I can already."

                _At least you **think** you can, Sawyer._ Tom tried to shut off his brain again, and failed miserably. It was too busy processing everything he had learned since getting out of bed.

                "Oh, I saw," began Quatermain with a measured smile, and he held the gun in an almost mocking fashion as he said, "it was very American. Fire enough bullets and hope to hit the target."

                _Now that's not exactly fair… I hit them, don't I? At least I don't outright, plain old miss them!_

                "Sawyer," Quatermain said in continuation, and he hefted the gun to his shoulder in a firing position, sighting off into the distance at a non-existent target as he continued, "I'm talking about pipping the ace at nine hundred yards!" There was an air of excitement about the old man now that intrigued Tom. 

                Tom turned to face Quatermain, arms crossed over his chest as he raised an eyebrow curiously.

                Quatermain lowered the gun, and offered it two-handed to Tom, a gentle motion of encouragement. "Try."

                Sighing, Tom thought, _What the heck… why not?_

                So it was that Tom strode forward with as much confidence as he could muster, and took the gun in his hands. Apparently, Quatermain cared perhaps a little too deeply for the gun as he said, "Easy!" Tom lightened up his grip, and Quatermain released the gun to the American, waving a hand at it with a light in his eyes. "Easy."

                _I wonder why the sudden interest in my marksmanship_, Tom couldn't help but think, and he had an odd feeling about the whole situation, even as the gun was raised to his shoulder and gripped appropriately. It weighed considerably more than his Winchester, and it took him a measured moment to become accustomed to the change, before he was comfortable with its feel. The absence of the finger lever for reloading threw him off for only a few seconds. He sighted down the barrel, even as Quatermain called, "Salau!"

                A new target soared high over the waters, launched on command, and splashed down in the distance. Tom felt a little anxious all of a sudden. That was a _long_ way off.

                "Now…" Quatermain was standing right behind him, hand raised near Tom's shoulder, he noticed, perhaps for support, "aim."

                "That's easy." Tom knew how to aim; after all… he couldn't remember how many of the Phantom's men he had knocked out with a quick yet precise moment of aiming. Intense training with Huck had taught him that much.

                "Allow for wind and target movement," Quatermain continued calmly, meaning to guide.

                "That's easy too," Tom told him, perhaps a little too confident.

                _Don't get cocky. He's trying to be friendly… appreciate it, and shut up._

                "Now this is the part that's not," Quatermain cut in, a little more insistent now.

                Tom nodded only once to show he was listening, and wanted to learn. Quatermain had quite a record, after all, and he was bound to know something that Tom didn't.

                "You've got to _feel_ the shot," Quatermain informed him sincerely. "Take your _time_ with it. You have all the time you need… all the time in the world."

                Tom wasn't sure quite what he was getting at, but his trigger finger was starting to get a little itchy. The cool feel of the metal appealed to him, and he just wanted to let off the shot.

                _Just pay attention… he must have a point… he knows what he's talking about after all._

                "Take… your…"

                Tom fired, cursing his impatience when the shot fell short, cutting into the water about ten feet short of its target. The bullet was lost in the waves, and Quatermain took the gun from him quickly, as if chidingly. 

                 "Too soon!" It wasn't shouted, but he was warning Tom, in a gentle fashion. Tom half-turned to the man, feeling a little sheepish for missing. He had already claimed he knew how to shoot, and look where that had gotten him… plain old failure.

                "But that was bloody close!" Quatermain encouraged, and waved out at the water, drawing Tom's eyes to his meaning. "And at five hundred yards too."

                _Five hundred? Didn't he say nine hundred a little while ago? _Tom paused. _Well now I feel even worse! An old 'retired' adventurer can hit nine hundred without so much as glasses to help him, and one of the best Secret Service agents can't even hit five hundred. Nice going…_

                "Again," Quatermain insisted, and the gun was back in Tom's grasp, much to the American's surprise. He had thought the lesson might be over after that fumble before. But still, he did not turn down the chance for a second shot. He had to admit… the gun felt good in his hands… he felt powerful.

                Before hefting it into position, he looked over to Nemo's crewman, and called, "Salau!" He had already picked up the word, and the man launched a new target for them.

                Tom raised the gun, and sighted down the barrel again, really trying to take his time with this one. He needed to redeem himself… even though this wasn't the field, he needed to improve. It he couldn't hit a stationary buoy, then he was going to have trouble with a moving target, and he had no doubt that this skill would certainly come in handy… someday.

                A question burned eagerly in his mind to pass out of him and become verbal, but he wasn't sure about it. He tried to keep it held in, in case it was too personal, but try as he might, he failed to keep it inside, and it came out, "Did you teach your son to shoot like this?"

                _Not that it matters_, he thought after a moment, and then realised the silence. 

                The clang of the door brought him back to reality, and he looked to his left. "Quatermain?" He was gone. 

                He turned his head to look over his right shoulder, just in time to see the door close.

                _Too far…_

                Tom sighed, feeling stupid and ashamed once again, bringing the gun down even as his spirits sank. He wished with all his heart and soul that he had kept the question inside. He had just ruined a perfectly good moment of friendship between Quatermain and himself… who knew if he would get the oppurtunity again? 

                Tom rested the stock of the elephant gun on the metal floor of the conning tower below him, and he clasped his hands over the barrel's mouth, staring out towards the approaching clouds that meant to end the sunshine, a sense of foreboding overcoming him suddenly as he stood regretting his brashness.

_                Why can't I just keep my mouth shut?_

* * *

**A/N2: **_Yipes!_ That's a long one, huh? Jeez… didn't think I had it in me. Anyway, _so_ sorry this one took so long in coming, I had a bit of trouble with the scripting, and was sitting here with my novelisation in hand, cursing the original draft of the script for being different : D Had a bit of trouble. But anyway, that may explain any inconsistencies you may have found, such as the order being slightly different as to the running of the film. I used the book for the most part, my memory running overtime to try and replay the scene over and over in my head. I did my best… hope it satisfies.


	5. All Ahead Stop

**Author's Note: **Gah! Took me so long to write this! Sorry! *begs for forgiveness* Now this, my freaky darlings (_please_ don't take offence to that) is what I would like to introduce as the 'interval'. It probably isn't as long as the others, because I based it on quite a short interlude of serenity in the movie… if you see what I mean. The ones after this will be the same length as chapters 2-4, I should think. This one is just a bit of… the calm before the storm, shall we say? Yes, I think that will do…

**Scene: **From the revelation as to Venice's fate, up until they 'park' the Nautilus…

**Shout outs:**

**Beck2: **Poor Sawyer… no one ever cuts the poor kid any slack. Don't you just wanna give him a hug? I know I do… *sighs dreamily* Ahem…

**RogueSparrow: **I've only ever really shut my brain off and heard the white noise I think… once? It was a difficult task, but it was Religious Education, and my teacher was an idiot. No offence to religious people out there… I'm an atheist. Each to their own, eh?

**drowchild: **Yes indeedy, Shane West has a band. Quite a funky one at that :D They're called _Johnny Was_, and they have a song on the 'A Walk To Remember' soundtrackbut under a different name (West, Gould & Fitzgerald), just to complicate things. Shane sings and plays lead guitar. Good voice, that one! Thank you for your reassurance for Chapter 3… I was a bit doubtful.

**Silent Bob 546: **Chilaou? Is that what the buoy things are called? *ashamed* Oops… should have researched that. Took me a while to figure out what you meant by that as well *cough* I can be a bit slow at times. Weird… is it a soft pronunciation then? Darn novelisation… skipping on including that word *growls and blames book*

**Sethoz: ***watches you cheerlead* Hehe, thank you as always, Sethoz, for your kind and generous words, and your unwavering loyalty to my work! *hugs and cookies* You _know_ I love you for it! What would I do without you?

**Soli: **Wow… thanks… _very_ much. That really is very, very kind of you. I'm glad you're enjoying the retelling from Tom's perspective. It is fun figuring out how he works, and after reading Mark Twain's book, it's a hell of a lot easier to work out what makes the boy tick :D

**Graymoon74: **Aw, thank you! Graymoon74, you are so generous with your lavishing of praise! But I do feel special when you put it that way. I do try to get into his mind. I hope it comes across as genuine; I would hate to take him out of character.

**sugaricing: **I appreciate that you reviewed, anyway! Don't worry about signing in :D *thinks about what you said about a 'sleepy Sawyer' and nearly collapses, or falls out of her chair* Dear god… you're absolutely right! He would look extremely adorable after he's just woken up! *plans to include that again at some point for the sheer hell of it, if not in this, in some other work* Bwahaha!

**LotRseer3350: **I'm so glad you like it! :D I'm starting to feel really reassured about this whole project now. For a little while, I kept thinking 'what _am_ I doing?', but all of you have made me feel very confident, so continuation is only a matter of time, determination and patience! (and several replays of the **_LXG_** soundtrack) P.s. Thanks for your help with this one on the whole day/time thing! *hugs and cookies*

_On with the show!_

* * *

                The following day aboard the Nautilus had been quiet to say the least. Everyone mostly kept out of each other's way, and not much was said in the way of conversation. Tensions were high, and spirits were low. They were approaching Venice, and quite possibly -to sound melodramatic- their doom. 

                Tom spent much of the day in preparation, going over what had brought him this far, and to the company of the _League_. Though he still felt out of place, he tried not to let it bother him as much as it had previously. He tried to tell himself that he was unique in his own ways.

                _Yeah… I'm American_. Tom cursed his ridiculous thoughts, but far from resolved to shut the damn thing off… his brain that is. He needed his senses alert for the search and possible battle ahead. He would need his wits about him, and his whole body and mind on prepared for anything. He didn't plan on letting anyone -least of all, Quatermain- down.

                Tom had cleaned and re-cleaned all three of his guns, and wondered if the adventurer was so particular about his weapons… then decided he shouldn't worry about it at all. It wasn't important.

                _Why do I respect him so much? I'd never even really heard of him until I joined the _League_ anyway… so he survived a few outrageous situations? Haven't I done that? I mean, I saved Becky from that cave. I did lots of exciting things… _His mind trailed off when it failed to come up with anything more impressive than what Quatermain had accomplished, and he sighed quietly. Tom tried not to feel too bad about it, and shut it out of his thoughts. There was too much going on to think about trivial things such as adventure and thrill as a child when a whole conference of important world leaders was at stake!

                Tom didn't want to let his mind wander. He wanted to keep it focused.

                Of course, he was thoroughly surprised when the old adventurer himself called on Tom to join him in his cabin. He didn't say what for, he just motioned for Tom to follow. 

                Tom stared out of the door after the man, raising a brow and pondering the reasons behind it. He slipped his Colt pistols into his holsters, and walked from the room, finding Quatermain waiting for him halfway down the hall. 

                Tom walked up beside him, concerned about the situation from the day before up on the tower of the submersible. He cleared his throat quietly, his hands finding the depths of his pockets, and he said, "Look, about what I said-"

                Quatermain waved a hand abruptly, but not in a harsh manner. He gave Tom a sidelong glance, and a hint of a smile touched his aged face. Tom felt some of the weight of the tension lifting already, and his spirits went with it. He felt a little more at ease now, able to relax somewhat… as much as the dilemma permitted anyway. It seemed Quatermain was willing to forgive and forget when it came to Tom's previous lack of tact, and for that, the young man was relieved and grateful.

                They continued walking in silence, so Tom allowed his thoughts to come into precedence, and he listened to his own mind's ramblings.

                _I wonder what all this is about, anyway. Everyone ate at noon… Nemo had said it would be best if we didn't wait until late to eat... so it can't be about a dinner invitation… that's stupid anyway. We should almost be at Venice now, I imagine. _He paused, furrowing his brow. _What **exactly** is the plan of action when we get there; I wonder… no one's said anything about that yet._

                Before he had realised, they were at Quatermain's cabin, and the two entered. The older of the two found a space at the desk, and seated himself, perusing plans and documents that Tom recognised to be the blueprints of Venice, and the Phantom's profile. A scowl came to Tom's face, and he tried to hide it, without much success.

                _I can't wait to get my hands on that man… no, he's not a man._ Tom glared down at the black and white photograph discreetly over Quatermain's shoulder. _In no way is he a man… he's a monster, that's all._

                There was a light knock at the door. Adventurer and spy glanced up together, eyes meeting the stoic form of Captain Nemo in the doorway, standing rigidly and purposefully in waiting.

                "Oh, come in, Captain," Quatermain addressed the man, "thank you for coming."

                _Okay… so what does Quatermain plan on doing now? Why did he ask me here? It's not as if I have anything constructive to add. All I know about the Phantom is that I can't wait for him to recognise me as the man whose partner he killed in cold blood… _

                Nemo acknowledged Quatermain's request with a simple bow of the head, and stepped into the room further. He walked up in front of Quatermain's desk, and stood there, face as if set in stone, a mask to hide all emotion. Nemo linked his hands loosely behind his back in a regulation stance, and eyed the adventurer as he perused the plans and blueprints and documents. Tom crossed his arms, and turned his attention on the decoration -or lack thereof- in the room. He never had liked awkward silences. 

                "The business with this conference doesn't sit right with me, Captain," Quatermain said at long last, his eyes not leaving the papers strewn before him on the desk. "What do you think of it all?"

                "Well, sir," Nemo began, though his 'sir' was far from an acknowledgement of rank or superiority, "I far from trust the British Empire as it is, and this only serves to unsettle me more as to their motives. I believe there is more to this matter than a simple conference."

                "Sawyer?"

                _What?_ Tom thought instead of saying out loud as he had intended. He looked to the upturned face of Quatermain, and finally managed to say, "The whole thing seems a little confusing."

                _Oh, very observant_, he chided himself, closing his eyes for a brief moment. _What an input!_

                "So, what then, could be the reason for the whole trip to Venice?"

                Quatermain looked to Nemo in pensive consideration as to this question, and his eyes darkened with thought and deep musings. "Perhaps he means to do something other than disrupt this mystery conference."

                "But what? What else _can_ he do?" Tom asked, looking between the two men, both far older and much more experienced than he was. It did nothing to stem his confidence in that moment though. He was determined to try and show his fervour to learn answers and get his opinions heard.

                Quatermain's gaze fell back slowly upon the plans, and he and Nemo shared a long stare of deep meaning that Tom missed out on… only for a moment. It seemed, oddly enough, to dawn on all three men at one time, though they didn't all burst into revelation at once.

                "The plans give much more away than the potential site for a conference of leaders," Nemo said gravely, "it also shows the entire structure of the city. It shows its complete underwater system, and ground plan as well."

                "He's not heading for the conference at all," Tom mumbled, and uncrossed his arms. Uncertainty was replaced with anger again at the atrocity of the apparent plan the Phantom had concocted. 

                "No… he stole these plans for another reason," Quatermain muttered, and tapped his finger on the pages. "And we already know he has the means to carry out this secret plan… if we are indeed correct."

                _I'll kill this monster if it's the last thing I do… I swear_.

                "So it is clear," Nemo said as he began to pace back and forth in a little pattern in front of Quatermain's desk, "with da Vinci's blueprints, and enough explosives… he could set a bomb that would blow Venice's foundations to rubble."

                Tom stopped the growl flowing into his voice as he agreed by saying, "He's gonna sink the whole city!"

                Quatermain nodded only once. Clearly, they _had_ all been on the same track. "Yes, and spark off his world war."

                Tom had been so wrapped up in his thoughts of vengeance and disbelief as to the malice the Phantom held in him, that he only noticed Dr. Jekyll when the fragile-seeming man entered, saying, "I'm afraid that's not the sum of our problems."

                _Oh great, what now?_ Out of curiousity, Tom took a couple of steps towards Jekyll, worry marring his face. Nemo mirrored his movements, and Quatermain half-rose from his seat at the desk. 

                "Skinner…" Jekyll began, shaking his head a little as if in disbelief to whatever he was about to reveal, "he's taken a vial of my formula…" He hung his head then, as if ashamed.

                _Oh this couldn't get any worse… _Tom thought, remembering the explanation as to what Jekyll was referring to. The doctor relied on the formula to be able to transform into the alter ego of Hyde, the beast that had nearly torn off Tom's head with a detached chain. Tom pushed the memory aside in the urgency of the situation.

                Quatermain furrowed his brow. "Are you sure?"

                Jekyll's face when he looked back up made Tom reconsider the man for a moment. There was a hard look in his eyes, something not too dissimilar to anger there, perhaps even hatred. "Who else?" he practically growled. "You've seen the way the sneaky blackguard operates."

                _Or **not** seen, as the case may be_, Tom added in thought after the doctor considered them at great length. The three men regarded each other warily and curiously, and Tom cast his eyes about for signs that the invisible man might be in the very same room with them, listening to the revelations. _What if he's in league with the Phantom? Oh god… I trusted him… as much as I can let myself trust these days, that is. What does he plan to do with that formula? A visible Hyde is bad enough… I don't even want to imagine an **in**visible one._ Tom swallowed dryly, suddenly very unnerved by the whole prospect of being secretly watched.

                That was the moment when a crewman hovered outside the door, acknowledged by his captain almost instantly. 

                "We have reached the city." The crewman bowed his head, and then departed.

                Tom glanced to Nemo, and then to Quatermain, finally at Jekyll, whose anger was subsiding and giving way for worry and regret perhaps. It was difficult to read his expression clearly. The man was an enigma if nothing else.

                "Very well, gentlemen," Nemo began. He paused when Jekyll glanced to him hopefully, perhaps even desperately. "I am afraid we will have to concern ourselves with this theft after we deal with the Phantom, and saving Venice. There is more at stake."

                Though Tom wasn't sure, he thought he saw a flash of disbelieving rage in Jekyll's eyes, but for only a moment. Then it was gone, in the time it took to blink. As Tom followed Quatermain out of the room, he watched Jekyll warily, as if the doctor would turn into Hyde completely of his own accord.

                They made their way up to the bridge, the control centre of the Nautilus, or as Tom liked to think of it… the brain. Nemo led the way, clearly in charge of the procession when it came to his vessel. 

                _I think this man is a little too obsessed with this thing_, Tom thought as they walked, _he needs to find another hobby, maybe. _He suppressed a smile, trying not to think like that. It wasn't polite, and what Nemo did with his time was none of Tom's business. After all, if it weren't for him, they probably wouldn't have made it to Italy this fast, and all hope would have been lost. They had the captain to thank for that blessing, and Tom was far from nonchalant about it… at least on the inside. 

                The bridge quickly filled when they were through its door, Mina Harker and Dorian Gray filing in last. Quatermain stood close to Nemo, who ordered for something called a 'periscope'.

                Tom watched with youthful fascination as a cylinder lowered, and Nemo put his eyes to a viewing hole. He turned it to the right using small handles on the sides, even as Tom glanced out of the window, not able to see much in the darkness of the night that had enveloped Venice. 

                "The carnival," Nemo revealed after a silent moment where all that could be heard were the odd noises of the vessel itself. Then Nemo drew his gaze away from the device, and motioned for it to be raised once again into the roof above, much to Tom's surprise. "My god," Nemo began as he stared out the window, and then met Quatermain's determined gaze, "we must locate that bomb!"

                Quatermain nodded, and glanced to Tom. The young American inclined his head slightly to show he understood the severity of the situation. Beside him, Jekyll was on edge, looking frantically this way and that as if in search of the invisible man and his missing sample of formula. 

                Nemo's first mate -a dedicated man named Ishmael- stood at the helm, but not controlling it. That job was left to an unnamed member of the crew, who followed every slight command that Ishmael gave him. 

                "Helm, three feet to port," Ishmael commanded with ease, evidently knowing what he was doing. That much was clear in his posture, and the determined way he checked on the crew around him. "Steady," he continued in an easing fashion to the man at the helm.

                Tom took a moment to glance out of the glass panels, and saw that they were pushing further and further into the centre of Venice. Large archways prevailed as focal points this far in, but the closer they got to the centre, the tighter the squeeze, it seemed.

                "Decrease prop a half knot," Ishmael continued, in his own world of commands and functions. The crew worked with regulated rhythm around him, unperturbed by the presence of the _League_.

                The canal continued to narrow, the overhead archways closing in on them and seemingly becoming lower and lower, the squeeze tighter and tighter. The Nautilus began to scrape on the walls of the archways and bridges, and Tom caught sight of rubble tumbling free, though small in size and not enough to warrant concern about destroying any of the local architecture. 

                Ishmael finally turned upon his captain, face somewhat grave, and he said in a clear, crisp voice, "We can go no further, Cap'n."

                Tom only then registered the accent, though it was difficult to place. The abbreviation of Nemo's title was -to Tom- unheard until now, and therefore not taken into account when it came to Ishmael's origins. Tom didn't let himself dwell on it. There would be plenty of time to fully acquaint himself with the man later on.

                _As long as he doesn't mind upfront questioning_, Tom thought with an inward smile. _I can be a little blunt at times._

                Nemo clasped his hands regally behind his back, standing just a few feet in front of Tom, Mina, Jekyll and Gray. The latter was as placid as always, undisturbed by the situation, the annoying calm on his face making Tom set his jaw in resolve. He would not allow himself to be shown up by Gray… not if he could help it. For some reason, that struck Tom as part of whatever Gray was planning to do out in the city, perhaps prove to Mina Harker that the agent was not enough of a 'man' for her. 

                _You obviously lost her once, Gray_, Tom thought angrily, _leave her to make up her own mind._

                Nemo gave his next command in an authorative loud voice that all could hear; "All ahead, stop!"

                Ishmael worked a device that rang as he pulled back and forward on a handle, and Tom watched him curiously.

                Before he could think on it seriously at length, Quatermain had turned to his companions, saying, "We need to be quick." He gave a single nod, and Mina and Dorian left the room at once, no doubt to prepare.

                _Hopefully not together. Oh, this is **not** the time!_

                Quatermain looked to Tom with a hidden expression that the latter could not unravel. Before he could inquire, Quatermain had left the bridge, Jekyll not far behind. Tom, not wanting to be left on his own and far from ready when the others departed, dashed out of the room as well, heading straight for his cabin.

                _Here we go…_

* * *

**A/N2: **Voila! Chapter 5! *cheers* Maybe I shouldn't be so excited. For an interval, I fleshed it out a bit too much, hehe. Oh well, I doubt you care. From what I've heard, the longer the chapter, the better, right? Right? Well, I'll leave it to you to decide. Some of (perhaps even _most_ of) the dialogue is from the novelisation, which has come in **_very_** handy as of late with these last couple of chapters! The thoughts and descriptions are original though, let me assure you. Well enough of my blabbering! Let me know what you think, and get ready for the carnage that is… Venice!


	6. Pedal To The Metal

**Author's Note: **Ack, took so long again. I _have_ in all fairness hit the hardest point in the film. I had to sit there with my DVD cuz the novelisation was _no _help in this bit. You should see my poor abused pause button… lol. There's a small voice in the back of my head saying, "Well, this is all your fault," but I'm choosing quite vehemently to ignore it. Sadly, I went a bit hyper at the beginning of this chapter. Luckily, I always script out bits first… this is what I get for listening to Muse whilst I type after eating sugar…

**Scene: _VENICE!_**

**Shout outs:**

**Beck2: **Thank you for your praise on the thoughts and descriptions. It's hard to come up with fresh thoughts for Tommy-Boy all the time, though I can't deny it's fun :D This chapter is huge, I think. What can you expect? It's the _car scene!_ Hehe. I'm mad… I must be. Yes… Sawyer's mine *gives you Jekyll* You can have him… 

**Silent Bob 546: **Updates are good! Yay! And here's another one! Yay!

**LotRseer3350: **Ah yes… virtual cookies. Sadly, they're never quite as satisfying as the real thing, are they? Impressed? *blushes* Aw, thanks.

**RogueSparrow: **Ah good… a fellow atheist. Not that I have anything against people who _are_ religious. No way! I'm not like that. Ahem… moving on. I think from now on Tom will keep his brain well and truly… on. I don't think he'll be trying to turn it off anymore, because from what I see in the film, after this, he always has a pensive look on his face… not an 'I'm trying not to think of or do anything stupid' (yet still adorable) expression. Ah yeah… don't pat him on the head… he's not in a very good mood. He's been moping ever since I told him to get ready to crash in the car…

**sugaricing: **Venice is one of **_the_** best bits in the film! Woohoo! Sleepy Sawyer… it's tempting… so very tempting… And unfortunately, that site is down for a makeover or something, lol. 

**Sethoz: ***watches you with the pom poms* Yes, poor Tom… and evil M. Car scene time! Hope this comes out okay… wouldn't want to put a dampener on your high spirits and… what's the word? Numb down your favourite scene…

**angelic katty: ***content sigh* Ah yes… Tom fics. Where would I be without them? I wouldn't be in this fandom for one thing… I'd be off in… I dunno. Now I'm rambling. There is indeed a novelisation of LXG, by Kevin J. Anderson, who wrote a few X-Files books… so it's quite violent. Just a warning…

**Graymoon74: **This site is playing up recently. Don't know what's wrong with it. Nemo does seem to love his ship… I mean, he calls it 'his Lady'. Each to their own…

**drowchild: **Yay… novelisation mass-reading! I think… hehe. So by the time you read this, you should have it. Excellent. It is good, but **damn** is Sawyer southern in that! Even **_I_** was getting a bit annoyed. But there are some excellent inclusions of cut scenes in there… how I wish they had kept them in the film…*pout* 

**Leigh S. Durron: **Hey! Welcome to the re-telling of the movie! Thank you for the compliment on the way I write. I've been at it almost ten years, so hopefully I'm improving from the days of 'the cat say on the mat'. Lol! Things in common? Why am I suddenly afraid of you, hehe! Nah, only kidding. Drop me a line!

**life sucks: **First of all, what a name! I'm gonna abbreviate it if you don't mind? Hope not… I'd be here forever typing that out :D And before you ask, I have no idea what has suddenly possessed me to make me type out an acknowledgement to _every_ reviewer. Inexplicable, that one. Tom thinks like you? Hmm… scary, lol. I'm glad you find this fic so entertaining, and it was what you were looking for, with the whole 'read what they're thinking' thing. I don't know why I decided to do it :S Lol. I'm deeply honoured that I'm responsible for getting you hooked. Bwahaha! My plan is almost complete! *cough* I've read the Tom Sawyer book as well, so I'm a little more aware than I was before of how he ticks. And on a final note, I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty of adding you to the complimentary update list :D Let me know if you _do_ mind, and it's not a problem :D

_Without further adieu, allow me to present… **Venice!**_

* * *

                Catching up with Quatermain, Tom followed the adventurer and the rest of the _League_ through the ship. Silent determination and resolve was the shared expression, and Tom felt a swell of concern.

                _What if we don't save Venice? What if we're too late?_ He stopped himself right then, and shook his head subtlely as they entered the cargo hold of the Nautilus. Tom's eyes strayed to the automobile… or as someone had dubbed it, the 'Nemomobile'. _Remember, optimism. Only thing that's kept me from going insane over all these years. _Tom smiled grimly.

                They strode up onto the ramp just as dozens of Nemo's men started to depart the vessel as well, some in odd suits that Tom recognised as the attire of underwater divers. They travelled in filed lines down the ramps on either side of the central track the _League_ and Ishmael used. From the rear of the group, Tom still made out Nemo's orders to his first mate; "Deploy the divers beneath the city. The explosives _must_ be found." The insistence in his voice was not lost on Ishmael at all.

                The first mate nodded sternly, and moved off to carry out the orders with a curt, "Aye, aye, sir." Then he was gone, lost amidst the swarming sailors. Tom could no longer see him, and felt the firm reassuring stone beneath his boots as he stepped onto land… the first land they had seen since Paris. He sighed quietly.

                The _League_ -what remained of it- spread out loosely on the canal side, and Mina Harker cast her blue eyes about. "This city is vast; it could be anywhere."

                It didn't take a genius to figure out she was referring to the bomb they intended to find in the streets of Venice. Nemo's men would take care of the below, they would handle the above… a simple enough plan. They just had to hurry. Who knew how much time they had to spare?

                "What about Skinner?" Tom found himself asking as he let his gaze wander warily about for any signal as to the invisible man's presence. He could be -like the bomb- anywhere. _He could be standing right behind me and I'd never even know…_

                Dorian was the one who replied, leaning ever-casually on his cane as though it were nothing but what it seemed, not a mere sheath for a deadly sliver of metal that he was extremely adept in the use of; "I'd be alert for his treachery."

                Before any of them could even begin to muse on a response, a mighty boom from overhead shook and chilled them all to the very bone. Each member cowered slightly, and looked up at the flaring light.

                Tom almost laughed. _It's just fireworks!_

                "Bloody carnival," Quatermain grumbled with the faintest hint of a smile. Dorian smirked openly. More cracks and bangs went on overhead as the spectacle continued.

                "God," Mina began, a hand over her heart as though the shock were almost too much, "I… feared the worst."

                _Can vampires feel fear, I wonder?_ Tom reached out a hand, his compassionate instinct taking over. "It's all right," he told her as his fingertips brushed the soft fabric of her jacket, "we still have-"

                This time the explosion was not innocent and meant as entertainment; it shook the whole area around them, the entire city even. Buildings trembled with the resonance, and people tumbled. Tom almost lost his balance, as did Mina and the others, but somehow they all managed to keep steady for the most part. A few of the sailors lost their footing entirely, and one or two were unlucky enough to fall into the canal. 

                Tom's eyes darted back and forth as he tried to reason for what to do. He suddenly felt quite useless. He caught sight of Quatermain peering around a corner building; looking at what, Tom did not know.

                "The buildings are falling like dominoes!" came the cry of a small voice, and Tom's gaze went skyward, where he caught sight of one of Nemo's men craning to look out over the railing of a… Tom did not know exactly what it was, but it resembled the crow's nest of a ship. He could have sworn that hadn't been there before. The tallest point of the Nautilus _had_ been the conning tower.

                "We're too late."

                Tom looked at Mina, and saw the utter distress that was not hidden from her eyes, but was veiled on her face. She felt the failure Tom too was feeling, and it was a horrible sensation indeed. They hadn't made it in time.

                _Optimism!_

                From his spying place at the corner, Quatermain was saying, "There must be more than one bomb."

                Tom concurred with that reasoning. The shaking had not stopped, but it had lessened in intensity. The bombs had all gone off, but the buildings were now starting to crumble and fall all around. Rubble toppled from the rooftops and crashed against the stone underfoot.

                "Nemo!" Quatermain blurted suddenly, as if something akin to an idea had struck him. Tom perked up, and listened intently, as the adventurer said, "The bombs are at the city centre. We have to seek out one key building." He strode back over with a defined and reassuring confidence, Winchester rifle in one hand.

                "Yes!" Nemo had caught on now, and it was starting to dawn on the young American as well. The captain persisted in his understanding, "If we could get ahead of the collapse, and destroy the next building-"

                "We can interrupt the chain of destruction!" Tom cut in to finish, and Quatermain nodded. Tom was filled with a new sense of courage and resolve, and something hit him then. He hid his smile.

                "With a beacon placed with the exact coordinates, I could launch a rocket and take out the domino," Nemo was saying. He understood fully now it seemed, and was starting to twist and formulate the idea into something much more complex and feasible.

                As Tom turned on his heel and took off at a jog back into the hold of the Nautilus, he just made out Dorian Gray's voice proclaiming that such an endeavour was ridiculous.

                _Cynic… that guy needs to lighten up!_ Tom skidded to a halt beside the automobile. The top had been removed, and Tom grinned. _Perfect… why didn't I think of this before?_ He hopped inside, placing his Winchester on the ground beside him, and looked at the board full of controls, humming pensively to himself as his green eyes perused the buttons and knobs. On a whim, he pressed one, and heard the satisfying whine and roar of the engine kicking into life, and it purred pleasantly. Tom's grin only widened.

                _Now… how did those ridiculous Ford contraptions work again?_ His mind raced, and it all came flooding back to him. One hand on the steering wheel, and the other on the gear-stick, Tom made the car leap forward. He revved it, mostly for the personal gain of the power he felt at his fingertips, and pressed his boot down even harder on the pedal below. The car lurched forward further as his reward.

                As the edge of the hold came into clear focus, he could see through the opening that the _League_ were debating, Jekyll looking rather distressed, and Dorian Gray insisting on something. The words were lost under the roar of the car as it exploded out of the hold, and shot down the ramp.

                Mostly for the thrill of feeling in control, Tom brought the car into a controlled skid out on the land, and spun it around, eyes meeting his companions. With a cocky expression, he called, "Care for a spin?"

                With a certain sense of gratitude, Tom noted Mina Harker was the first to press forward, and to be gentlemanly; he reversed the vehicle towards the woman slowly. She climbed into the rear seat on the right, and smiled at him. He threw her a similar friendly gesture, and felt the sense of slight victory increase as Allan Quatermain came up on the passenger side. 

                "Come on, Jekyll!" Quatermain called to the frozen and terrified form of the doctor. "Get in!"

                "I'll need coordinates," Nemo called to them from the bottom of the ramp. He didn't even look in the slightest bit perturbed that Tom had commandeered the automobile… and that was reassuring. 

                Quatermain halted in the process of getting into the vehicle, even as Dorian Gray clambered into the back next to Mina. Tom frowned, and then remembered they would need all hands on deck for this one. With a sigh, he held his tongue, gripping the wheel. "Can you track this thing?" the hunter asked of the captain.

                "Of course." The way Nemo said it, perhaps it was supposed to have been obvious.

                "Then the car will be your target."

                _The car? You're kidding, Quatermain… **this** thing? You wanna blow it up?_ Tom felt like laughing at the ridiculousness of the comment, but then remembered the consequences, and kept quiet once again.

                "Launch when you see the flare," Quatermain concluded in address of Captain Nemo, holding aloft one of the guns he had used in the capture of the monstrous Mr. Hyde. Tom recognised it at once. 

                Nemo let out a curt, "Right!" and was back off into his mighty ship to set about the preparations. 

                Tom revved the engine impatiently as Quatermain called out, "Jekyll, come on! We'll need Hyde!"

                Tom turned his head, half-twisting his body to see the expression of sudden resolve on Jekyll's worn features as he shook his head. "No," he grumbled stubbornly, "Hyde will never use me again."

                _Oh, what a great time to grow a backbone! He couldn't have waited?_

                Dorian was turned in his seat as well, even as Quatermain sat down in his seat and waved one of his aged hands to the steering column as an indication to Tom, who raised his eyebrows in question. Before revving again and pushing the car forward, he heard Dorian call back to Jekyll, "Then what good _are_ you?"

                _Well there was no need to be so cruel to the guy_, Tom thought as he turned the car sharply to the right and away from the Nautilus and her crew, even as Mina rewarded Gray with a glare that could have frozen over a volcano. _Now which way am I supposed to go?_

                Thankfully, Quatermain had thought ahead, and pulled a folded yellowing map out of his waistcoat, studying it for a moment as he put his glasses on carefully, even with the steady bouncing of the speeding car. Tom kept his attention on the road. The most he had ever driven was a small strip of land in a ridiculous comparison of this design created by Ford. There was the branch of the canal on their left, and quaking buildings on the right. So far, they were moderately safe from tumbling rubble.

                "Straight ahead," Quatermain told him over the thunderous engine, "and then turn left."

                "No," Mina countered from the rear seat, and she pointed between Tom and Quatermain, "take a right after the canal port!"

                _Oh great… back seat driving_, Tom thought, concentration taking precedence on his face. _But she's probably been here before, so maybe I should-_

                "You must turn _left_ to get ahead of the collapse!" Were Quatermain and Mina Harker doomed to bicker for the rest of this mission? It seemed so.

                Before Tom could turn left or right under the cautious advice of the adventurer or the vampire, cracks of gunshots exploded from the windows and balconies of the building separating the fork in the road. Tom gave a yell, and yanked hard on the steering wheel. The car lurched swiftly to the right as a result, but not before they had smashed a considerable chunk out of the very same building, sending debris soaring into the air. Tom ducked his head for a moment to protect his eyes, and then looked up to see their new course.

                "Snipers!" Dorian revealed -rather pointlessly- from behind Tom. "_Damn_ Skinner! He must have told them we were coming!"

                _But how would he have known I'd get the car? Wait… never mind. The guy could have been standing right there… he could have run off to tell the Phantom, or signalled him…_

                Dorian Gray chose that point to physically leap from the car, landing with almost feline grace on the road, and they were soon speeding off with him fading into the distance. Tom felt no great loss as their numbers dwindled.

                The street they hastened down now was especially wide, enough for at least two or three of the magnificent automobiles to travel side by side. Bullets continued to ricochet off the side of the car, and Tom risked a glance to the rooftops, catching sight of the lines of sniping gunmen. He recognised their attire; they were the Phantom's men.

                _This man seems determined to ruin my life_. His concentration was back on the road as they sped through a small gap, only to reveal a crowd of the same automatic rifle-wielding men, helmeted and clad in black. Tom pulled on the wheel again, turning the speeding vehicle hard to the right in a hasty curve, and before he could angle them further, the front of the vehicle slammed through pillars in the arched walkway running down the side of the street. They went through two, three more before he gave a tug to the left, and they levelled out, leaving blocks of the pillars in their wake. Mina poked her head out from under the protection of her arms, and blinked quickly in disbelief that they were still alive.

                The snipers persisted, like irritable insects that forever buzzed close by, as if eager to be swatted. Tom would have been only too happy to oblige right then. 

                Mina turned her body, and leaned over to look out the back of the car, and she let out a desperate cry, "Dorian!" 

                _Is she serious?_ Tom thought with a pang of jealousy. _That guy can't **die**! What is she worried about him for?_

                Beside him, Quatermain pulled out his own Winchester rifle, and aimed it swiftly and with ease, but there was a look of unconcealed anger fluttering across his lined face, and he practically growled, before lowering the gun, and yelling, "I can't get a clear shot!"

                Tom turned his face to the adventurer, overcome with bravery or idiocy -or an odd combination of both- and bellowed, "Then take the wheel!"

                Before Quatermain could deny him the oppurtunity, Tom pushed himself upward in his seat, and propped most of his weight steadily on top of it, pulling both Colts from their holsters simultaneously, taking quick aim and letting loose with a rain of bullets and a determined shout.

                 He heard Quatermain's panicked yelp, and simply continued to pull the trigger over and over again, squinting as the wind rushed past him, trying to focus. It did him no good, and he only prayed the quick aim he had been practising paid off, even though he saw no men fall. They were going too fast for that.

                "Sit down, you buffoon!" shouted Quatermain from his place on the other side of the car, Tom still firing his guns and straining to hear the voice, "I don't know how to drive this thing!"

                _What makes him think I know it any better? _Tom thought as he continued to pull the triggers, feeling rather than knowing he was almost out of bullets. 

                "Sit _down_!" Quatermain insisted loudly and desperately.

                Tom's pistols clicked on empty, both of them, and he slotted them away as he slid back into his seat, his foot quickly finding the accelerator again, and his hands claiming the wheel. "Got it!"

                Quatermain gratefully snatched his grasp away from the steering, and breathed out a sigh of relief that only amused Tom further. 

                "Save your bullets," Mina said from the back seat ominously, and there was an eerie hiss to her voice.

                _She could have said that before I blew all my ammunition_, Tom thought, only slightly irritated. After all, not once on the voyage had Mina Harker truly angered him.

                "These men are _mine_!"

                Tom heard a flurry of a noise as they passed under an archway with a fluttering rag like a curtain. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Mina had physically launched herself from her seat, soared up into the air, and latched gracefully to the side of the buildings to their right. She seemed to be breaking apart, swarming around now like… were those bats?

                "Did you see that?" Tom asked in disbelief, only himself and the adventurer remaining in the vehicle. Tom was leaning on the seat behind him, his eyes still up to where he had last seen Mina. He turned his gaze on his companion. "Did you see what she just did?"

                Instead of confirming or denying the otherworldly display, Quatermain jabbed a finger out the front of the car, a startled look to his face. "Keep your eyes on the bloody road!"

                Tom snapped his attention back to what he should have been concentrating on all along. "Whoa! Sh-"

                A rather large block of rubble had been toppling towards the car, and Tom was forced to swerve violently to avoid their getting crushed. The building wreckage landed a comfortable inch shy of them, shortly before the front of the car smashed through part of a small bridge that they subsequently crossed.

                Tom was having a little trouble keeping the vehicle straight, and he fought the controls, even as small metal guide poles were knocked clean over by the solid front of the car. A small canal ran down to the left hand side of the car, and as rubble and brick continued to rain down all around them, Tom pulled a rough right at the end of the street. There was a terrifying moment where Tom felt the car pitch to the side, and he noticed their rear left tire had skimmed clean over the canal's waters before finding the road once again. His heart skipped a beat.

                _Maybe I should take it easy on the corners._

                The car came bursting out from the bridge, and into a narrow street. Gunfire hailed all around them, and Tom's gaze darted upward, and he felt a surge of panic and anger at the familiar tactic he saw displayed up above. "It's a gauntlet!"

                Instead of sharing in the slight panic Tom was feeling, Allan Quatermain twisted in his seat, and pointed skyward, replying, "The vampire lady has us covered!"

                _What is he talking about?_ A quick glance up to the rooftops made him suddenly feel very calm… eerily so. There were dozens of bats skittering from rooftop to rooftop as Mina converged hungrily on the snipers. Tom would have grinned if he hadn't needed to concentrate on the road, the bullets slowing suddenly. 

                As he pushed the car ever faster down the street, hearing and seeing the carnage and chaos of the collapse all around, he heard the screams as men were bodily thrown by Mina Harker from their sniping perches. Luckily, he had far passed their point of landing before he could hear the sickening thuds that no doubt accompanied them when they hit the road.

                They emerged on another wide street, this one devoid of snipers or ambushing gunmen, and for that, Tom was grateful. _Maybe I'll get out of this one alive after all. Wait… the bombs had to have been set recently… the Phantom's men are here… where's the Phantom?_

                The car was speeding past a small side canal off to their right, Tom's eyes constantly on the road now that they were without interruption, when Quatermain looked to him suddenly and said, "Remember the flare. I'm off!" He jabbed his thumb at his own chest, and Tom threw him a distraught glance, confused beyond belief.

                _Where the hell is he going at a time like this?_

                "What?" he yelled over the roar of the vehicle's engine, even as Quatermain started to haul himself out of his seat.

                "Don't forget," he called back as he finally completed his climb, ready to throw himself from the speeding car, "_you're_ the target!"

                And then he jumped. Tom glanced over his shoulder to see the older man land quite spryly, and blinked once. _I could've pulled over! Why is everyone abandoning me… wait… oh, now this is not a good sign. What if they know I might not be coming back?_

                Trying not to think so negatively, Tom turned his full attention back to the road, seeing the approaching collapse. He was about to drive _through_ it, instead of past it, and all he could think of as a reaction was a simple, "Whoa!"

                Pressing his foot down as far as it would go on the pedal, his mind completely overtaken with the mission he had been trusted with, Tom pushed the car through the gap, even as bricks and buildings collapsed on all sides like an avalanche. The vehicle tore through the tight squeeze with a rebellious roar, and shot out the other side like a bullet out of a gun.        

_              Don't even look around you… just keep driving. If you don't see how close you are to death, you can't get scared._ Of course, as soon as he thought this, his eyes flickered to the collapse on all sides, and he swallowed dryly. _Okay… I'm gonna die._

                The word 'optimism' tried to reassert itself, but was pushed aside by the thunderous noise of buildings crashing into their own foundations and toppling like the dominoes they resembled, and with a growl of fury, Tom pushed the car even faster.

                His heart started to race madly as he realised he had overtaken the collapse, and he looked over his shoulder swiftly and briefly to see that he was indeed in the clear now. Not long until he would have to take action. He just needed to find that key building. 

                _None of these will do… the rocket would never get here in time_. His eyes searched madly for a perfect oppurtunity, whilst his hands gripped the resisting steering wheel. The last thing he needed was to lose control. Then he spotted it… the perfect structure. It was a risk… but he was willing to take it.

                _I really **am** going to die. Not a bad way to go, I guess… saving a city_.

                Gritting his teeth resolutely, Tom snatched up the flare gun from where Quatermain had left it, and kept his left hand on the steering wheel, which fought against him, seemingly with a life of its own. Tom doubted the car had ever travelled this fast before.

                That was when the front of the car exploded through the stone banister to the side of the canal, over some stairs leading down to the water's edge. As the car hit the uneven surface, all six wheels left the ground, and the automobile took off over the canal's shimmering water.

                _Now!_

                Tom twisted in the seat, raising his arm skyward, and pulled the trigger on the flare gun. As the beacon shot off into the sky, everything around Tom Sawyer seemed to drag; time itself slowed, and the car seemed to hover over the canal for an eternity. Tom looked back at his trajectory, and his eyes widened, even as time snapped back into place and everything sped up once again. The car started to pitch forward with an eerie whine.

                Biting off a curse before it had even begun to pass his lips, Tom let go of the wheel, ducked his head under both arms and shrunk down into his seat as far as he could go, even as he felt the front of the car slam into the ground on the target side of the canal. Miraculously, the vehicle stayed in one piece, but instead flipped right over onto its back even as the main body smashed completely through the solid front of the abandoned building.

                As the car crashed into a messy landing inside of the disused theatre, Tom Sawyer was trapped underneath it, pinned in his seat.

* * *

**A/N2: **Lame cliff hanger I know, cuz we all know what happens to Tommy-Boy! But I had to try, right? Okay… originally, this chapter was going to cover _all_ of the Venice scene, right up to where Dorian takes off in his retreat, but I realised (with the help of Sethoz) that it was just too damn long, and it would be better if cut in two :D So now, this story will be a nice even 14 chapters, instead of unlucky 13… do please let me know what you thought of this exciting instalment of Tom's POV of the movie! Sorry it took so long again! Thanks!


	7. The Sound of Treachery

**Author's Note: **Wow! That last chapter went down a nice treat! People liked it! Yay! *does a dance* Well… glad you enjoyed it. Was worried I wouldn't pull it off. My boredom obviously serves its purpose, hehe. Anyway, this is the second half to that last segment. It picks up where we left off…

**Scene: _Venice!_**

**Shout outs:**

**life sucks: **Glad you think no chapter is too long. No wonder you were able to patiently join the journey halfway through. Complimentary update list is what I do to inform people I have a new chapter up so they don't miss it. They're ignorable, lol. It's just a group email I send. I did try and intend to be funny with a few of those thoughts in that last chapter, so if you laughed at those -and let's pretend you did-, I'm glad. 

**Naitriab: **You think my other fics are hard to follow? Hmm… sorry you feel that way. And there's a reason I write about Tom, considering he's my favourite character and all ; )

**angelic katty: **Yay! You laughed! Happy Clez!

**sugaricing: **I tried to get this chapter up ASAP cuz it seems people are enjoying themselves. You crazy people! Hmmm… maybe I shouldn't leave that rocket just hanging over the theatre where Tom is trapped, huh? Might fall… but I won't let it. That sounds wacky about you and your friend :D But I like it. Oh yeah, swap around the last two lines of your 'greeting' and you're spot on. Lol.

**unknown princess: **I'm glad you liked Venice. Here's the conclusion. 

**RogueSparrow: **He is incredibly cute isn't he? And I have lots of screen captures to inspire me. Bwahaha. Yes I know… sad. I'm happy you liked the car skid bit enough to quote it back to me :D Wondered what the hell it was at first, lmao! Yeah… he's in an even worse mood now by the way cuz he's still _in_ the car. Maybe I should stop waffling and get him out, huh? *chomps on cookies*

**Sethoz: ***hands you sit-down pom poms* Ah yes, the car over the water *remembers the trailer with 'Fire In The Hole', and giggles like a schoolgirl* Sorry… momentary lapse. Well, since it slowed down in the film, I figured I'd try and represent time slowing for Tom… makes sense to me *cough*. 

**Iblis: **This soon enough for you? Lol.

**Graymoon74: **As long as I know it's you, Graymoon74, I'm happy. You're reviews always make me laugh somehow. Tommy-Boy has a busy brain, no? I would if I were him… although I'd probably be dead already *nervous laugh*. I'm so happy you laughed as well. Reassuring, that is. Although with your crazy sense of humour, I should imagine a lot of things make you laugh. Patience… more like insanity!

**Silent Bob 546: **Like I said… I'm afraid you'll only see Jekyll when he's in a scene with Tom :S Otherwise it would defeat the object of a Sawyer-scope. *looks at what she just wrote* Hmm… one way of putting it. I'm really happy you keep coming back though, when there isn't the lure of continuous Jekyll.

**LotRseer3350: **Sadly… the only stuff I'm really using from the book is extra dialogue. And we don't have the official DVD here yet *cries* So I haven't _seen_ any of the deleted scenes. Oh well, only have to wait 'til the 16th February, and then I get it for my birthday! Yay! 

**anonymous: **Oh… just realised that I can refer you to the above paragraph in regards to Seer. Sorry about that, I would _love_ to put them in… but I can't *cries again*. Glad you love it though :D.

_On with Venice!_

**

* * *

**

                For a few moments there was silence, the only sound that of dust and debris tumbling loosely to the stone ground below, where the upturned Nemomobile sat unmoving. Then someone groaned, and Tom Sawyer ventured to look around, remembering where he was and what had happened. His green eyes picked out the particulars of his situation, and it did nothing to lift his rather dampened spirits.

                He unhooked his foot from the base of the seat where it had decided to wind itself, and gave a yelp as he tumbled headfirst out of the chair. He put his arms down to stop from giving himself a head injury, and fell with a thud to the rubble-strewn ground underneath the well and truly battered vehicle.

                "_That_ hurt…" Tom grumbled, and started picking him way to where wan light penetrated the edges of the topless car. He used his hands to pull himself free from the chest up, wincing as he did so. He was more than a little sore, but he definitely remembered firing the flare… hopefully Nemo had seen it.

                _The flare… the rocket!_ His mind suddenly snapped into focus, and he turned his head to the gaping hole he had smashed through the front of the abandoned theatre, chunks of the building still toppling loose of their previous fixtures. He could see the ever-approaching collapse, and it was coming fast, creeping up on the canal that he had decided to launch the automobile over.

                _Not good_, Tom's mind rambled, and he scrambled to pull his legs free of the trappings of the car, biting off a curse as he did so, feeling his feet come free just as he heard the roar of the rocket overhead. For a terrifying moment, he almost froze, and then his subconscious screamed for him to run as fast as his legs would carry him.

                He was about to start, when he remembered his rifle, actually cursing this time, and reaching an arm under the overturned car, finding it down by the seat at an angle and wrenching it loose.

                Winchester rifle in hand, he bolted for the only opening he could find that would provide some sort of escape, which just happened to be in the form of a dusty old window, the glass smashed. There were still jagged edges, but he pushed the fact from his mind as he bodily threw himself out of the hole, just as the roar of the rocket reached a deafening crescendo and slammed into the roof of the dilapidated building.

                Tom let out a shout -whether due to fright or adrenaline he didn't know and probably never would- as he tumbled to the ground, rolling as he had trained himself, and covered his head with his arms, even as the rocket blew the theatre apart with an awful booming, resonating explosion that made Tom's ears ache.

                The heat rushed over him as flames reached out hungrily like arms grasping for purchase, and Tom closed his eyes tight and gritted his teeth as the force of the explosion caused his blonde hair to whip about his head, and his coat to billow.

                Only when the heat and breeze had died down entirely did Tom remove his head shakily from under his arms, hands trembling… he was still alive. He could have laughed if his heart wasn't threatening to break from the confines of his chest. His eyes wandered back to the building he had just escaped from, wide as saucers, and he took panting breaths in shock that he had just lived through what had happened. The building was now nothing more than a blackened broken shell of what it had been, rubble still tumbling to the ground in all directions as the fires died out.

                _So much for the car_, he thought, letting the beginnings of a smile touch the corner of his mouth, and he laughed in shock more than anything, just before he felt the stinging on his temple.

                Pulling himself to his feet, Tom looked all around, and he thought he could hear -other than the irritating ringing in his ears- the sounds of the people from the carnival cheering. 

                _And they'll never know what happened_, Tom thought as he touched a hand to his left brow, bringing the very tips away dotted with red. _Great_, he thought with a frown, _just what I need_. He winced, shook his head slightly, and then tried to get his bearings.

                "Where the hell do I go now?"

                Turning this way and that, he figured he would try and follow the canal… after all; it was the only thing he could think of. He just hoped the others didn't give up on him and leave him behind.

                _What if they think I'm dead?_

**

* * *

**

                Tom's thoughts had started to lighten and pick up as he followed the canal, trying to remember some of the landscape he had seen on his way past it all in the now-destroyed car. There were certain things he recalled from the previous journey, though in all fairness he had been going rather fast at the time, and half of them now lay in ruin or buckled into their own foundations all around. 

                _This is awful… _he thought, _if only we'd gotten here sooner. If I ever get my hands on that Skinner, I'll… I'll-_

                He heard sounds very much alike the rushing of many people, and the great clunking of what seemed like… the Nautilus! He knew it was here somewhere. All thoughts were abandoned, as he pressed on swifter. Winchester still in his hand, he approached the canal where the submersible had docked. A cocky grin spread on his face as he drew closer and closer, but he managed to push it down in remembrance of what had happened all around in the great city. Needless to say, the smile faltered a little.

                As he reached an archway, he heard Allan Quatermain inquire as to his whereabouts.

                _Might as well make a dramatic entrance_.

                So it was that Tom Sawyer strode triumphantly out of the shadows, calling, "He'll live to fight another day." His smile had returned, and he saw the way the hunter regarded him with pride, only serving to lift Tom's spirits higher. That was, until his head started to ache. He touched a hand to his cut brow, and as he did so, he heard the approach of heels… Mina Harker.

                _At least she's all right._

                Tom looked up to her as she stopped before him, and drew back a little as her gloved hand reached to touch his face. He remembered seeing how she had cast some of the Phantom's marksmen aside after draining them of their blood savagely. Suddenly he wasn't so keen on proximity.

                "Don't worry," she said in a soothing tone, "I've had my fill of throats for this evening."

                Tom felt his brow furrow ever so slightly, and he ceased his flinching from her, letting her gloved hand touch his cheek and brow. It was oddly comforting, and he stared into her icy blue eyes, yearning to be closer to her.

                His moment of tranquillity on the receiving end of Mina's affections -no matter how small- was interrupted by the sound of someone calling to Nemo from the hold of the Nautilus. All eyes turned in that direction, and Tom felt his widen at once. It was Ishmael… and he looked in a bad way.

                _Oh god…_

                Nemo and Jekyll charged up the ramp as Ishmael tried to descend it, and the doctor reached him first, coming to stand and subsequently fall behind him and hold him gently. Nemo went down on his knees, just as Quatermain, Mina and Tom halted at the foot of the ramp, all wearing expressions of deep melancholy… Tom for one knew from the sight of the bullet wounds in Ishmael's chest that the poor man would not make it.

                Tom had not even noticed the immortal's absence until Ishmael choked out the words, "It was Gray."

                The American felt his insides chill at once, like a frost that had settled over the grass at dawn. He shuddered involuntarily, and beside him, Mina drew back in horror and dismay. Tom wanted to comfort her, but he was too caught up in his sadness at seeing such an honourable man suffer.

                "Not Skinner…" Ishmael continued in a rasping, struggled voice as he locked gazes with his captain. He took a moment to take a shuddering breath, and then stated, "Gray's tricked us all."

                Tom felt his melancholy swell as Ishmael gasped one last time, and his head lolled to the side, eyes still open in death as his body fell limp in Jekyll's arms. Nemo looked to the doctor, who shook his head slowly. Tom could not see the Indian's face, but knew very well that for once… the man must have been showing true, raw emotion.

                _Dorian Gray… I **knew** he couldn't be trusted._

                Before he could voice his useless thought, a great, ominous grinding sounded from inside the belly of the mighty Nautilus, and the eyes of the remaining _League_ members turned as one to the origin. 

                Tom took a small step back, feeling his shoulder brush against Mina… but he was too taken by the sound to notice their closeness. "What is it?" he asked cautiously, holding his Winchester tighter as if for comfort.

                Nemo tensed visibly, and he practically growled, "The sound of _treachery_!" He shot up from his mourning crouch, and bolted into the Nautilus. Tom took off after him; with Mina and Quatermain -who he now noticed had a bloodied shoulder that he would inquire on later- following on his heels. Jekyll brought up the rear after laying Ishmael's body down gently.

                 Tom pursued the enraged captain right through the hold, and out the other side onto a platform that Nemo lowered, suspended on tough chains that supported the _League's_ weight as they each stepped out onto it. Tom held his rifle aloft as he stood on the edge of the platform, and his eyes caught signs of movement from a dome that shifted and protruded from the side of the submersible.

                The others stood around him, each in their own state of awed curiousity. Something extended from the dome, a great shape that made Tom's jaw drop slightly in amazement. It gleamed in the moonlight, and the smooth surface of it appeared silver, or something of the like. It was suspended out from the side of the Nautilus on cables and strong cords, before it suddenly cut itself loose. As it fell, Tom asked, "What _is_ that thing?"

                As the odd device descended rapidly, Nemo called out his infuriated response, "It's my exploration pod!"

                _Nemo thinks up the craziest things…_

                The pod crashed down into the water, sending up a fine spray that just fell short of the platform the _League_ stood on. They watched as it whirred and buzzed into life, and slowly came creeping towards them, the spikes on the flat side of it acting as propulsion. Lights started to flicker into existence in two of the small hatches on the side, bulbs flaring into life, shortly before two matching panels slid apart to reveal a window.

                _Shoot the glass_, Tom thought angrily when he saw the smug, triumphant face of Dorian Gray behind the window, _break it so he sinks to the bottom of the canal._ But something kept his finger off the trigger… perhaps it was the knowledge that he knew his bullets would do him no good, and they would not penetrate the glass… and perhaps it was the shock. Whatever it was, the Winchester stayed propped beside him as his green eyes stared in dismay at Dorian as he had the nerve to blow them a kiss.

                Tom saw Mina recoil in anger from the display. As the pod started to back away from the _League_ and the platform, Gray at the controls, Quatermain called over the din, "We can track it!"

                Tom set his jaw defiantly. All this time they had been blaming Skinner… and it had been Gray… no wonder Tom had had a hard time trusting him. But what had happened to the invisible man? Where had he disappeared to?

                Nemo's gruff, enraged reply to Quatermain's suggestion brought him back to reality as he shouted, "I intend to _catch it_!"

                Tom went with the other men back into the Nautilus, noting how Mina hovered for a moment on the platform before following, staring longingly out into the canal as the exploration pod turned and sped off. 

                Even after the blatant treachery, it was apparent that the vampire still yearned for Gray… and that was perhaps more painful to Tom than the betrayal.

**

* * *

**

**A/N2: **Aha! FINISHED IT! SO sorry it was so delayed. No excuses, apart from the ones already voiced in BTLOTM. Gah… cannot fall into this habit. Must update sooner! *pokes self in head* Update… sooner! Gah! Okay… I think that told me… I won't be delaying again. I hope you all enjoyed the conclusion to Venice… and you know what to do now, and what to expect in the next instalment! See you soon!


	8. Bomb Voyage

**Author's Note: **Well hello everybody. Where _have_ I been hiding?! Under the rug, that's where. Bwahaha! Okay… maybe not. Didn't think that'd fool you anyway. No, I've been… lazy… and busy… oxymoron! Work + children (not mine) + BTLOTM = slow updates on 'Shadow Games', leading to guilty Clez! Anyway… what was I saying? Oh yes, same as usual… a load of rubbish! But anyway, on with the show, and I'm glad you all enjoyed the whole Venice shebang! *looks at that word* Shebang?! What the…? Who's been spiking my tea!?

**Scene: **Need you ask…?

**Shout Outs:**

**RogueSparrow: ***watches you sitting on Sawyer* You know, he still might be a little grouchy from knowing the car is ruined and he can't have any more fun. But anyway, this is your second favourite part? Why? I know it's cool and smug and 'Grrr' and all… but… oh, I suppose it is a pretty damn good scene! Ooh cookies! My fave! *munches on cookies* Mmmm… yummy. Thanks!

**drowchild: **You and your Connery impressions! Lol. Ack! Are you insane? Don't whack the vampire! Hehehehe… everybody is getting whacked by you huh? Careful of that poor werewolf plushie. Yes, people who like the movie score points in my book. The speech… even though I HAVEN'T SEEN THE DELETED SCENES *cries* I **_am_** including that! How could I not?! It's so cool, from what I read in the book. *is showered in confetti*

**sugaricing: **Yes indeedy, go Tom! Hehe, dramatic entrances. Being an actress, gotta love 'em! As I've said before… we don't get the DVD until the 16th February… Wah! That's why they're not in here filling up said space… sad, but true… and _very_ annoying!

**Sethoz: **Sethoz will agree with me abut the annoyance of living in a country that's slow to get films! Won't you, buddy, oh pal? I'm not sure why you loved the chill bit, but I'm glad you did. I was truthfully a little iffy about that line, but you have – once again – reassured me. Yes, Mina… look… Tom's _right there_!

**Graymoon74: **You like the Nemo-related Tom thoughts, don't you? Lol. That annoyed me in the film, it was like CRASH – oh look, Tom's crawling out, and he doesn't seem to have had much to struggle with in doing so. Hmmm… slightly dodgy and lazy of Norrington methinks… _and_ he threw bricks at Shane! Bully. But he _did_ bring us **_LXG_**, so, perhaps I can forgive him a few errors. 

**DarkSeverus: **I am glad you like my portrayal of dear Thomas. I saw the film, and loved the way he was shown in that, and as a result I read the book. And I have to say, I _love_ that book! Plus, I'm about to start reading _'The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn'_. It's so funny *remembers _"David and Goliath!"_ and bursts out laughing* Sorry… you have to have read the book to get that. Ah yes… Dorian is surprisingly fun to portray and – dammit… I've just realised I don't have any more Dorian to use. Oh well. Never mind. I had my fun, and now I must go back to telling the story we all know and love! Oh, p.s welcome!

**Nowicki: **I had to shorten your name… sorry. It kept buggering up and trying to do a list on me *growls at Microsoft Word* Curse you! The computer, Nowicki, not you. Yes indeed… poor Tom… why am I hearing _so_ much of that lately…?

**LotRseer3350: **Bad example? Oops… this update didn't help matters then did it? Sorry. I'm a workin', I'm a workin'! See? You see me typing?

**life sucks: **Ah yes, the last line. Had to put a mental-angsty moment in there just for the sake of it, Bwahaha. Improvisation? That's funny, cuz in drama, the one thing I _despise_ is improvisation… but you know what? Improvising Tom's thoughts is just about one of the most fun things I've done recently… damn, that sounds sad. 

**Silent Bob 546: **Yes, poor Ishmael. Poor guy. Thank you for sticking around, Bob, you know I love you for it… and update your fic pronto! … Please?

**

* * *

**

One of Nemo's men had held out his hands willingly for Tom's baggage, and he had rid himself of the excess weight without hesitation. He had handed over his Winchester and shed his coat at once, watching the small man scurry off to Tom's cabin to replace them. Tom smiled at the man's dedication to his job. Instead of dwelling on such a matter, Tom shifted his attention back to the _League_ and the problem at hand.

                _Dorian Gray… I **knew** it. I knew I sensed something about him… why didn't I say something before? We might have been able to prevent all of this. God, I'm an idiot._

                He followed the others towards the meeting hall, where they had gathered a few times to discuss light matters. Nemo led the way, not surprisingly, and Tom could almost feel the man's anger and grief from where he brought up the rear.

                _Ishmael was his friend… looks like we've got more than one vengeance pledge taking place here now… I'm after the Phantom, and Nemo will want Gray. _He sighed. _Look out, Gray._

                Quatermain, Jekyll and Mina were silent; waves or irritation and disbelief pulsing from them heavily, and Tom furrowed his brow at the magnitude of the situation. They had trusted Gray, quite literally, with their lives. And he had gone and betrayed them all. Why?

                Nemo pushed his way into the large room, and pointed a finger almost accusingly at once. "That is us," he said, Tom catching the words as he filed into the room last, hands in his pockets now for lack of anything to do with them. Nemo pressed on with determination lining his voice, "_that_ is the Nautiloid." Tom followed the captain's finger with his eyes, spotting the device on the wall for the first time, and cocking his head slightly. It was making a delicate bell-ringing noise, and there were two rod-like instruments dangling down across a golden globe, one pursuing the other. 

                _Another tracking device. I know I thought he created the weirdest things… but they certainly come in useful._

                "We will be upon them soon," Nemo finished angrily, and stood at the head of the long table. Many of his sailors were dotted formally around the room, rigid and stoic like their leader. Tom eyed them one by one, and then remembered what had just happened and its effect on one of their team. He turned his body to Mina Harker.

                He brought his hands out of his pockets again, thinking it to look too casual when his question was filled with honest concern; "You okay?"

                Mina looked to him with those ever-dazzling blue eyes, and smiled nervously, feigning nonchalance as to the minor blow she had just been dealt. She ran one of her hands gently through her long hair, and replied, "Just a little… shaken."

                Tom wasn't convinced, and he found his feet had crossed the distance between them before he had realised. He was standing only a matter of feet from her now, looking at her face.

                Suddenly, the most horrible high-pitched whine came out of nowhere, and Tom winced at once, the sound making his ears ring. _What the hell **is** that? It's awful!_

                "Nemo?" Quatermain looked to the regal man, as if in allegation. 

                Nemo looked to the hunter at the sound of his name, and simply shook his head dismissively, saying, "It's nothing of mine."

                _Well I wish they'd make it stop, whatever it is. It's gonna give me a headache… and I don't need that right now. _He took to looking around the room from his point next to Mina, and tried to locate the origin of the sound, before the doors opened once again, and a man Tom recognised as being called Patel strode in, an odd looking parcel in his hands. It bore a silver device on it, and Tom's brain immediately registered the item as suspicious. 

                "Captain," Patel began, striding straight over to Nemo, even as the whine died down and dissipated entirely, "the noise came from this."

                _Okay… that can't be good… can it?_

                Nemo took the object from Patel, and turned it slightly this way and that. Tom paced up to stand beside his newfound mentor, and crossed his arms over his chest pensively, brow furrowed deeply in regards to the object.

                "A recording disk?" Nemo asked of no one in particular… and it was just as well. He got no answer whatsoever as he pulled the black object from its brown sleeve. He turned and placed the disk onto a gramophone, pulling down the pin and letting it play. A crackling noise came forth from the player, and Tom listened to the sound of the voices, wondering whom they belonged to.

                The first to speak was a woman, and quite a prim one at that, as her voice rang clear from the player, "Ready, Professor?" There was a brief pause, and Tom narrowed his eyes. _Professor?_ "Recording," the woman stated, and fell silent.

                Then the man spoke, and Tom did not know the voice… but Quatermain clearly did. The hard lines that came to his features spoke volumes even in his silence. 

                "Gentlemen," the voice began, and right away, the American decided he did not like the speaker, "if you are hearing this, then every step leading up to it has gone as planned."

                "And I've been true to the goals set to me," came a third voice, and Tom tensed at once. _Gray!_ Tom glanced to Mina, seeing her own anger at hearing the immortal's cocky voice, even as he continued, "Yes, it's me, Dorian." The annoying man even had the nerve to sound _bored_! "As you now know, I'm no loyal son of the Empire. In fact, my loyalty to Mr. M comes in no small part from his possession of something I hold very dear to my heart."

                _That rat has a **heart**? I'll believe that when I see it. He acts so callous. _

                "Some I would do _anything_ to regain." Dorian's voice carried very little emotion, something that played with Tom's anger, making it escalate.

                _Sure, Gray… make it all about blackmail. _

                The man titled by Gray as 'Mr. M' spoke once again, and Tom tilted his head slightly as he listened to the Englishman's words, crisp and precise; "Everything so far has been misdirection: Sanderson Reed; the assassins in Kenya; your recruitment and mission; the secret conference... a myth. Even the _League_ itself. There is no _League_... there never was. It was all a ruse, to get me closer to my goals."

                _Who **is** this man? What is he talking about? I'd be surprised if this is making sense to anyone._ But looking around, Tom realised that he could very well be – with the exception of the sailors perhaps – the only one who was ignorant to the truth. That discomforted him. 

                Tom leaned in to Quatermain slightly, arms still across his chest, and said, "He likes the sound of his own voice, doesn't he?" Despite the fact that he had no idea who this man was, he had no doubt Quatermain did… the look of anger on the hunter's face was evidence enough for that. The older man did not respond.

                "You see, I want you. Each of you. Even tired old Quatermain, because he'll capture Hyde where all others have failed." The man took a pause here, and Tom imagined the smug 'gentleman' pacing extravagantly around some lavish study, perhaps smoking a cigar. One of his fists clenched in irritation as the Englishman persisted, "But the question is 'why'. Why all this mask and mystery?"

                _Finally, a question I can relate to._

                Tom caught a glimpse of Mina's eyes wandering only momentarily to the ceiling above them, and he wondered why. Had she realised something?

                "Because in the war to come, I intend to wield the greatest weapon of all. The power of the _League_ itself." 

                Tom felt his jaw clench, and he let his eyes wander from the gramophone, trying to imagine the ways he would enjoy watching Gray suffer for his betrayal. He paced away from Quatermain slightly, letting the adventurer stand alone next to the table and listen.

                "To that end," M continued, "I set my wolf among you sheep."

                Then came the most aggravating thing Tom had _ever_ heard the immortal say, and he was amazed that one man could irritate so effortlessly. All Gray said was a dry and humourless, "Growl."

                "To earn your trust and quietly lead you astray," M added after Gray's remarkably witty quip. Tom stared at the gramophone as if in accusation, and narrowed his eyes.

                Dorian Gray's cocky voice came through the device again, and he sounded almost as bored as he always did… though there was an undeniable humour lingering in his voice as he said, "And all the while I'll collect you… the parts of you I _need_."

                _I don't like the sound of this…_

                "Nemo's science…"

                Mina held up her hands before herself, and looked at them as if wondering why she had not seen the treachery before now. "Magnesium phosphorous," she said quietly, even as Gray's voice cut back in.

                "Skinner's skin sample," he went on, "Jekyll's potion…"

                The doctor turned from where he had been staring, into a reflective surface – something that always confused Tom – and there was a horror in his wide eyes as he heard the revelation as to the missing vial.

                "… and Mina's blood," the immortal finished. The triumph was less disguised here, and Tom glanced to the vampire as she let her hands drop to her sides once again, a look of distress in her blue eyes.

                "He's stolen us," Jekyll practically growled, the most fierce Tom had ever heard him, and for a moment, the American found it impossible to think of this man as the same who had hidden from helping Venice when he had been needed. "And we _let_ him!"

                Despite the fact that the betrayal was aimed at others, not towards him in any way, Tom couldn't stem the flow of anger that coursed through his veins, making his heart beat faster and his eyes narrow with hatred. 

                _What were they thinking when they stole that pod? There's no way they can outrun this thing! We'll catch them in no time for sure._

                "If you fail to save Venice," M began again, casually and aloofly, "then I get my war. If you succeed… well, it's a small price to pay for Gray to go about his task." There was a tense pause here, and Tom waited almost eagerly for the continuation; "War _will_ come, sooner or later, as the end of summer into autumn."

                _Cocky bas-_

                "Now some of you – perhaps Quatermain if he isn't dead – will pause to ask why I'm letting you know all this. What fool reveals his strategy before the game is over?"

                _I'm **really** starting to hate this guy's voice._

                There was another pause, one in which Tom felt the atmosphere thicken if that was at all possible… it was already extremely tense. It was closing on unbearable.

                "It _is_ over… for you anyway." M sounded extremely confident, and that triumph that Gray had displayed in his tone was back again, this time from the 'Professor'. 

                Near to Tom, Quatermain's brow loosened slightly from its furrow, as if something had just gone off in his head, like an alarm or a klaxon. What had he realised?

                "Because my voice isn't the only sound being made. While I've… rambled on, a secondary layer of inaudible sound, higher than humans can hear… audible only to dogs and _lower_ animals, has been heard by crystal sensors dotted about your vessel."

                The eyes of both Nemo and Mina Harker widened at this statement, and Tom felt something deep in his stomach clench… and it was not pleasant. It was something very much akin to dread.

                _I **really** don't like the sound of this…_

                Gray spoke again now, taking up the mantle of gloater, as he revealed, "Sensors attached to _bombs_."

                _Oh god…_

                "_Bomb_ voyage."

                The drollness of Gray's final quip was lost to them in its intended humour as Nemo tore the gramophone from where it had sat, and threw it viciously to the ground. The player shattered into pieces, the wood splintering and clattering away. All sound stopped emanating from it at once, and a deafening silence descended on the room and its occupants, the weight of the previously spoken words making their stomachs and hearts sink.

                _Please tell me that was a cruel joke… **please**._ But he knew with every fibre of his being that – even for Gray – the joke was far from feasible. 

                When the first bomb exploded deep in the belly of the Nautilus, all hope was dashed from Tom's brain as the ship lurched dangerously. The second bomb detonated, then the third, and Tom – along with the others – pitched to the side, the great table in the centre of the room sliding with them.

                He managed to keep his feet as the ship started to lilt, and only just avoided the table slamming into him by leaping aside at the last moment. Nemo – furious beyond belief and comprehension – stormed from the hall, the _League_ in quick pursuit. Faces were grave, eyes wide with hidden fear and disbelief as to what was happening. 

                The journey to the bridge was short and swift, the captain at the front of the procession charging through his crewmen as they raced about to try and save the vessel. Even as they were walking, Tom could tell they were sinking, and by the time they had managed to reach the brain of the ship – as Tom liked to call it when by himself – they were forced to grasp onto anything solid to pull themselves up the length of the room.

                Nemo pushed the man at the helm aside, gripping the wheel himself, yelling, "Out of the way!"

                _Poor guy didn't have much of a chance_, Tom thought as he scrambled up the length of the room, gripping onto a pair of meters and pressure gauges that were still firmly fixed into the floor beneath him. He looked around himself, trying to hide his fright, seeing Quatermain holding tightly to the mapping table.

                The hunter called to Nemo, "We have to surface!"

                "We are taking on too much water!" Nemo countered, his knuckles white with the pressure he was applying to his grip on the wheel. "The controls are not responding!"

                Tom realised he had never heard the Indian sound so desperate, yet he noticed there was still the stoic – but horrified in its own way – expression on his toned face. 

                _C'mon, Nemo… think of something!_

                The same crewman from earlier tumbled into the room, and he shouted to Nemo urgently, "Primary engine room almost full; aft bulkheads are still open; pump valves are jammed!"

                _Which means we're going down… fast._ Tom could feel his ears popping with the pressure from outside the ship, and he noticed the slight muffled edge everything had now. His body was trying to compensate for what was happening, and doing a damn lousy job. _This can't be it… it can't end like this. _Tom did not want to die without having his chance for vengeance. To him, it was worse than anything he could think of.

                "Seal it off!" Nemo ordered Patel, and the man widened his eyes in realisation of what his captain was asking of him.

                "But there are men in there, Captain!"

                "For the greater good, we _must_ seal it!" Nemo's attention was back on trying to save his beautiful vessel at once, but his efforts went un-rewarded. A crack had established itself in the glass at the front of the bridge, and there was a spray of water shooting into the room, succeeding in covering everything inside and soaking it. The _League_ – or what remained of it – clung on desperately to anything that would hold them, and Tom glanced to the woman close to him.

                She was hiding her fear well… but Tom wasn't an idiot. She was frightened. He yearned to try and comfort her, but he knew it would fall on deaf ears. Not only would she fail to hear him most probably… but it was not the time. His hopes were fading fast, and even with his normally cheerful optimistic outlook on things, he was having a tough time with coming to a conclusion that didn't involve them dying… right here, and right now.

                _Oh dammit, why did I have to start being negative **now**? That's the last thing I need. _His eyes wandered again. _This is awful… all the while we thought it was Skinner, and it was Gray… the bastard even managed to plant three bombs without us realising!_

                Caught up in his own thoughts, Tom almost missed Jekyll lose his balance, but turned his head in time to see the doctor crash into some fixed instruments against the back wall. It was too loud in the room to call out to ask if he was okay, but Tom was reassured when the man quickly came to his senses. He turned his chestnut head to the wall beside him… another reflective surface, and amazingly started to carry out a rather one-sided conversation.

                _What on Earth is he doing? _

                Before Tom could ask the man, Jekyll cast a quick, wide-eyed glance about the room, and then fled from the bridge, slipping on the wet floor but managing to keep upright. He darted down the corridor, aided by the listing of the ship, and disappeared.

                Tom blinked. _Okay… what just happened?_

                A crewman toppling down the length of the bridge and crashing against the wall brought Tom back to painful reality, where everything was thrown back into sharp and frightening focus.

                They were sinking fast… and they had just about run out of options.

**

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**

**A/N2: **And yet again I realise this is not a true cliffhanger, but _hey_! Who could blame me, huh? It seemed a good time to leave it, so I did. Bwahaha! And you are powerless to stop me. Of course… if you're in a more fortunate country than I am, you can just pop the DVD on, and watch the outcome yourself… sniffle. *muttered* No fair… stupid UK… grumble, grumble… *looks up* Oh… you're still here? Sorry. Well, I shall try and get the next update up pronto! No promises, but I haven't let you down yet, right? Right?


	9. Leader of Men

**Author's Note: ***cowers* This took a long time, didn't it? Eeep, I'm so sorry. I'll try not to do it again. Ack... bad habit, _bad_! Bad Clez! Okay, enough of that. On with the show... oh yes, a couple of points about this chapter. I have used some data from a deleted scene, because it's just too powerful to leave out. You can probably guess which one now, from the scene explanation below, but you'll see what I mean if not. It is slightly adapted, partially to accommodate that I left something out near the beginning, and didn't want to change that, and to fit in something - only very tiny - from the book. And also, in reference to a later scene with absolutely no speech - you'll see, it's an author-inserted scene, as in I made it up - I improvised, and I've put my reasoning into the paragraphs themselves as to an 'invention' I'm not sure about. Whether or not they really would have had it... just look at the rest of the Nautilus, and you'll probably agree with my reasoning, lol. Also, as for the name of a place, I researched it, and found out how to spell it etc. Proud of me? No... good... that would be quite sad, lol. That's enough of me rambling, wouldn't you say?

**Scene: **Aftermath leading into Mongolia. 

**Shout outs:**

**life sucks: **Hehe, yeah, had to keep my rating safe unfortunately. And as for Tom's thought about Jekyll, I was trying to lighten the mood ^_^ And I know exactly what you mean, and am really glad you can apply that feeling to this fic.

**Leigh S. Durron: **Lol, glad you're enjoying the update emails as much as the updates themselves. Lol!

**angelic katty: **I have a dry sense of humour? Awesome!

**RogueSparrow: ***sits herself down next to Sawyer, and turns to him* Whadda ya' think about this one huh? Crazy? *Sawyer shrugs, and then nods* Yup, that's what I thought. *smiles* But isn't that why we love her? *they both nod, and eat cookies* Thanks for the review, buddy!

**Nowicki: **Ah yes, rock on indeed...

**Sethoz: **I found out yesterday, that I have to wait 'til the 20th now! My sister can't buy it 'til then. *twitch* This is why the Americans are luckier than us! I'm getting the 2-disc set like you, Sethoz. Mwahahaha! Sorry I took so long...

**freedomfighter82: **I sometimes tell myself to shut up, or stop talking to myself as I'm walking along... cuz people stare at me. *hands you a bandage*

**Graymoon74: **Yes... 'beep' would be accurate. You and that thing for me saying anything about Nemo's inventions. Lol. 

**Niani: **A Jekyll moment? You mean am I going to go after Jekyll and watch him? Sadly not... remember the POV thing ~_^

**Psychozzy: **This is the first fic of this kind I've ever even thought about doing. I'm surprised my patience is keeping up with me. I thought I'd give up about halfway through when I realised how much thought has to go into it, but it's actually pretty fun. Thanks for the encouragement.

**sugaricing: **UK is evil? Why? Other than the DVD thing... is there another reason apart from this is the very epitome of boring? One-sided conversations... not really a problem with them so long as you are on your own ^_^ That way no one stares at you. 

**Beck2: **Guess you will find out now, yeah. Lol.

**Silent Bob 546: **Evil school! Evil! As for cats being better... well I have a Great Dane _and_ four cats. Crazy!

**LotRseer3350: **Updates, updates everywhere! Well not really... but I try. Something tells me you'll like this chapter...

* * *

                It was deafening and terrifying on the bridge, water spraying everywhere and crewmen toppling all around, the pressure reaching an unbearable level as he felt his ears try to compensate for the plummet in depth as they sank. All around the bridge, the rest of the _League_ tried to hide their fear, but the hunter for one looked to be the only truly calm person in the vicinity. He had a blank expression of nonchalance on his face, while there was a hint of regret in his eyes. Was he really so ready to die?

                _This can't be the end_, Tom thought, closing his eyes, turning his head from the crack in the front window where a spray was shooting in at frightening speeds. _Jekyll, wherever you went, please tell me you had an idea._ Although Tom, deep in his heart, thought this to be a slim possibility, he had relied on optimism for years, and it had always paid off to some degree.

                Mina clung desperately to some pipe work close to Tom, and she yelled to Nemo over the noise, "Can nothing save us?"

                Nemo was fighting with the helm, growling quietly in irritation and rage, as he replied loudly, "Only a miracle!"

                _Great... where are we going to find a miracle as we sink to the bottom of the sea?_ Tom thought almost dejectedly, trying to keep his spirits from resembling the Nautilus... it was getting tougher by the minute, before he thought he felt a lurch within the vessel itself. He opened his eyes, and looked to Quatermain, who was glancing around with narrowed eyes as if puzzled.

                There it was again, a mighty groaning, ominous at first before taking on an almost comforting pitch. Then another lurch... and Tom _felt_ it.

                "Did anyone else-" he started, before Nemo cut in.

                "There!" he yelled, and fought against the controls again. "We are rising!"

                "How did you do it?" Mina yelled over the noise, even as Tom felt whatever Nemo had sensed... they _were_ raising to the surface again, and quite rapidly at that. His stomach lurched slightly with the speed of it, and he wished for just a moment that it would slow down a little.

                "It was nothing I did, Mrs. Harker," Nemo replied.

                Quatermain smiled grimly, and muttered, "Miracle..."

                Tom could feel the Nautilus gathering buoyancy once again, and after what felt like an unbearable eternity, the front of the submarine pierced the waves, like the tip of the sword that had given it its name. It shot up into the air, sending up a great spray of ocean as it gathered altitude, before enough of the rear of the vessel had surfaced, and it pitched forward, only to plummet back and slam down into the sea again, rocking and steadying, but noticeably listing to port. They were badly damaged. Tom laughed despite himself, just glad beyond belief to be alive at all. He let out a breath of relief, and looked to the others. They exchanged glances.

                Shaking his head, Tom realised what must have happened. Patel had reported that the valves had been jammed or something... only one man... or rather beast would have had the strength to release them.

                Hyde... Jekyll had found his courage.

* * *

                Tom and Quatermain were in the stateroom helping with the tidying, the very beginnings of the repair of the once-proud vessel that had taken a powerful blow. Three to be precise. 

                _Damn Gray..._

                Mina and Captain Nemo were helping the crew to pick up fallen or broken objects where they had listened to the fateful recording from M, whilst Tom and Quatermain took hold of the misplaced table. Tom gripped one end, the hunter the other, and together as if on some silent cue, they took to sliding it gently back to its place in the centre of the room. It made very little sound on the floor as they repositioned it, and as Tom was straightening his end, he looked up to the door, almost grinning at whom he saw there.

                Dr. Henry Jekyll had clearly taken the time to change his attire before returning, and he was now striding towards the stateroom, before he paused to pick up a small table for a crewman, handing it to him with a proud smile.

                _I don't blame him. He just saved our lives._

                Looking around, even as Jekyll entered the room, Tom saw the similar looks of gratitude on everyone's faces. Nemo's appreciation was - for once - far from hidden. Mina smiled openly, and Tom even felt a slight pang of jealousy. Quatermain, in the middle of returning a chair to its position, threw the doctor a thumb's up.

                "Let's not make a saint out of a sinner," Jekyll objected, smiling nevertheless. "Next time he might not be so helpful."

                _I'm surprised Hyde didn't smash everything to bits as it is. Not to mention grateful of course._

                Tom remained at the head of the table, trying to put everything into place. It was all in a bit of a mess so far, and this latest strike had thrown everything even further out of perspective, if such a thing was possible. None of this made sense to him, and he wished someone would explain it.

                "Can we, uh... still follow Gray?" Jekyll asked tentatively, motioning to the place where the mapping device _had_ been tracking the Nautiloid. Two crewmen were replacing the dislodged tracking arms... they had lost the signal for the time being. 

                _Fantastic..._ Even in his head, the sarcasm was immense.

                "Well we _were _the faster," Quatermain began with a sigh, moving to pick up one of the heavier chairs to the left hand side of Tom at the table's edge, "but now we're the tortoise to his hare."

                Jekyll moved to assist the hunter, and as the two bent down to lift the chair, Tom heard the doctor say in a very deflated manner, "So we're done."

                "No," Tom cut in at once, taking his hands from the tabletop where he had rested them down. He shook his head briskly, ignoring the rebellious bangs of hair and persisted, "We're alive. If M has any ideas to the contrary, that gives us an edge."

                _I know it, and they know it... don't they?_

                "The sea is vast," Nemo piped up, from his place to the side of the room, where he was overseeing a repair. "He could be anywhere."

                Tom cocked his head. It looked as though it were up to him to restore morale. "Yeah, well I'm an optimist. Now maybe that's a crime to you twisted so-and-sos, but it keeps me from going crazy."

                _Did I really just say that? Twisted? Crazy... I'm not crazy, or ever been on the verge of **going** crazy... have I?_ Tom picked up a fallen pitcher from the floor as he waited for someone to respond... anyone.

                Mina took up the mantle, and said plainly, "Your optimism is out of place."

                _That's it..._

                Tom slammed the pitcher down on the table, and Jekyll - at least, though he may not have been the only one - started visibly and looked to the American wildly. The silence beforehand had been shattered by the sudden noise. Tom knew very well that his cocky smile had gone completely, that his eyes may had narrowed just slightly, and that his face was harder somehow, his jaw set resolutely perhaps. He'd had enough of the negativity and defeatist attitudes of these people. It was time he took a stand and told them what it was they were here for.

                "You're wrong!" he said loudly, determinedly. "'Cause we _will_ get our man." His volume faltered, and he mumbled, "At least _I_ will." 

                Tom sighed, and realised he had kept something very important - at least to him - from these people. His reasons for being around were an enigma to these people, and it seemed that now was the perfect time to let them in on the motive. 

                "The other agent I was working with was my childhood friend," he began, in a slightly distant tone of voice, thinking back on the origin of the tale, where he had seen Huckleberry Finn die. "We were agents together 'til the Phantom shot him dead." He regained a little of his verbal confidence as he persisted heavily, "Now you can be done, but I'm not. I _will_ avenge his death."

                _Even if it kills me_, he added silently.

                Jekyll fidgeted clearly, a little uncomfortable, and said, "It's not about any one of us, Tom... it's bigger than that."

                "Yes, it _is_, Jekyll!" Tom agreed, and he moved around to face his companions, his determination rising, his confidence returning. "The fate of the world is in _our_ hands." He looked them each in the face in turn, making sure they were paying attention. It appeared he had their undivided concentration. "The _world_!"

                He regarded each of them singly again, hovering on each face as he persisted, "So M tricked you. He brought you all together, and you walked right into his trap." He let a ghost of a smile touch his youthful features. "But the way I see it, that was his biggest mistake. He brought you... _us_... together." 

                Dr. Jekyll allowed his smile to show through his anxiety, and he glanced to the others. "He... he has a point."

                Quatermain regarded Tom with an expression that the American did not recognise, and he finally spoke, saying, "And the boy becomes a man."

                Tom had never heard the hunter say anything so supportive before, and for a moment it surprised him, before he let the gratitude sink in, and his back straightened, a little proud.

                "Perhaps a leader of men." Quatermain locked eyes with Tom, and gave him the tiniest of affirming nods.

                "And women," Mina added, much to Tom's astonishment. His eyes turned to her, and he furrowed his brow at her comment. It appeared that she backed Quatermain in his support. 

                _I didn't see **that** coming._

                Before Tom could do or say anything else, still reeling from Mina's comment, a crewman burst into the room, and announced, "We're getting a signal!"

                _You mean something on this canoe still works?_ Tom thought with a slight smirk, afterwards reminding himself that he had just shared his optimism, and he shouldn't let it falter now, considering he had just restored hope to the rest of the _League_, even with all the failure they had experienced lately. 

                Nemo was first out of the door, following the crewman towards the communications room that Tom had passed a couple of times on the voyage but never investigated. The _League_ trailed behind the Captain like an extended shadow, with Tom at the forefront next to Quatermain, feeling much more confident than he could remember in a long time. Mina and Jekyll walked behind them, and their short journey was silent.

                When they reached the communications room, Quatermain and Nemo walked inside the door, whereas Tom, Mina and Jekyll halted at the opening. Tom leaned on the doorway, with Jekyll behind him, and Mina to his right.

                "Morse code," Quatermain pointed out. Towards the corner of the room sat one of Nemo's crewmen, with a pair of headphones half on his head, listening and jotting down a message. A tapping noise could be heard emanating from a device Tom recognised. Quatermain was right.

                "What's it say?" Mina inquired curiously.

                The crewman looked to them, confusion hidden in his eyes, and announced with a puzzled expression, "'Hello my freaky darlings'."

                Tom nearly laughed, and folded his arms over his chest. "Skinner?" he stated in disbelief. He had forgotten - shamefully enough - all about the thief since the recording incident.

                "... 'Hiding onboard little fish, with Gray and M... headed to base. East by Northeast... follow my lead'." The crewman relayed the message to them, glancing about to see their reactions, even as Tom let the meaning behind the words sink in.

                _Looks like we're not out of the game just yet. All this time, we've been thinking Skinner was nothing but a hindrance, and Jekyll only a dead weight... and now look. _Tom smiled slightly at the corner of his mouth, a lopsided expression hidden from his companions. _It takes the coward and the thief to save the day and maybe even the world... Huck never would have believed this._

* * *

                The repairs started straight away, a new confidence and determination setting in like a fever aboard the Nautilus, everyone infected. Crew and _League_ members alike rushed about fulfilling tasks of all kinds, trying to get the valiant vessel back to her sea-worthy state. It was a long and arduous task, but no one complained of exhaustion of hardship. 

                Tom, for one, was not ashamed to admit he was pretty much a runner in the operation. He wanted to help any way he could, and if that meant fetching equipment and relaying messages, then so be it.

                It was on the night of the first day of repairs, that Tom stood underneath the head of one of the showers with his eyes closed, just letting the water run over him as the events replayed in his head. It was a chaotic recollection that he had trouble sorting through. 

                Tom had been - in his childhood - more accustomed to baths of a sort, where his cousin Mary had insisted he wash before church on Sundays. He had hated it... it had always seemed like so much effort for so small a thing that had never really mattered to him. But now, it seemed Nemo had outdone himself again for practicality. Sure, you had to stand, and it could be classed as inconvenient, although Tom appreciated it for some odd reason as the water dripped from his hair over his face. It seemed Nemo had taken into account the fact that baths for the amount of crew would be a serious waste of space considering the number of people aboard... and so he had put in a room with several 'cubicles' Tom guessed you could call them, for washing. Tom appreciated the facility nevertheless. It felt good to just stand there and let the warm water wash everything away. In all fairness, it was a marvel they still worked at all, he realised with a wry smile.

                He let his forehead lean against the immaculate surface before him, his hair all in his eyes, and one palm flat against the wall for balance as he thought over what Quatermain had said to him.

                _"And the boy becomes a man... perhaps a leader of men..." _

                Tom sighed quietly, thinking, _Did he really mean that? All I showed was the optimism we needed... if I hadn't said that, we'd probably still be sitting in that stateroom moping, and then M and Gray would have started a world war. All I did was show my nature, how I am... did Quatermain really mean what he said about me, or was he just humouring me?_

                Tom turned to rest his back on the cold wall, placing his head under the running water again and shaking his hair from his eyes with a slow exhalation. He tried not to let the potential falsehood behind the claim of Quatermain's sink in. True, the hunter could have just been showing his support for Tom's efforts, or he could have _truly_ meant those words... the most encouraging thing anyone had ever said to the young agent.

                He opened his eyes halfway, pushing off the wall, and turning his head under the flow and sighing softly again with the comforting feel of the water, before deciding he had been in here long enough with his thoughts. He should get some rest before the repairs continued in the morning. He intended to wake as early as was reasonable to help.

                Grabbing a towel, he stepped from the shower.

* * *

                The second day of the repairs dawned slowly, as if the morning itself was lethargic and reluctant to get started. The sun slowly rose from beyond the horizon, the light slowly piercing the slight cloud cover, and shining down on the wounded vessel sitting motionless in the middle of the waves, the sounds of maintenance already echoing through the corridors and outside the blast holes themselves, where crew worked on replacing the hull itself, a tedious but essential task.

                The _League_ set about their individual tasks without delay, after a quick breakfast. Jekyll and Mina tended to the wounded from the bombs, and rarely left the infirmary or the crowded corridors surrounding it, where bandages and medication were dispersed and used more than the Nautilus crew had probably ever seen in their service. 

                Nemo stayed on the bridge whilst mapping out a course from Skinner's course headings. He mused over the plotting very carefully, and sketched out routes with precision on a map on his table, using equipment Tom had never really seen before to draw and calculate. Other than that, the Captain oversaw the repairs in the engine rooms and at the hull replacement, silently nodding and quietly offering words of encouragement and reassurance.

                As for the hunter, Quatermain... he was rarely seen, and Tom took to wondering just what the man was up to. When he passed the man's cabin once or twice, he thought he heard music playing, or a recording of some kind, and often quiet mutterings of pensive considerations, spoken aloud when Quatermain thought he was far from interruption or earshot. Tom would simply furrow his brow and move on to his next task.

                By lunchtime, Tom was moving briskly down a narrow passage on one of the engineering levels, where pipes loomed everywhere, and crew bustled around busily with a sense of purpose. He mostly jogged along as he helped hand out equipment, and he checked dials and meters as he went, as Nemo had shown him. He turned the small wheel at the middle of the pipe leading up to the gauge, and then tapped the glass face, checking that the reading wasn't false. As he went, and when he passed crew working on the pipes themselves, he stopped, and handed them tools from the box hanging over his shoulder on a sturdy strap. Spanners, and the like, which the crew seemed to require quite a lot. He paused by a large pipe - the use of which was lost on Tom, who decided it didn't really matter so long as it worked - and handed a couple of workers a tool each. One of them redirected him down the passage, and he nodded briskly at their recommendation, and took off at a steady but swift pace. 

                So far, to Tom at least, it seemed everything was going well, repair-wise at least. They still had a long way to go.

* * *

                It took a further two days for the repairs to draw to a steady close, wherein crew checked and rechecked their work for any mistakes, to ensure that the Nautilus would sail again. All was satisfactory, but the most confirming of the tests was about to take place on the bridge, where the _League_ had gathered for the event. Mina and Jekyll stood to the right of Tom, who had his arms crossed over his chest again, his hands gripping the handles of his Colts, ever ready. It was a habit now, one that he had no intention of breaking. It never hurt to be prepared, not that he was really expecting to be ambushed on the bridge anyway.

                Quatermain stood towards the front of the bridge, hands hooked in his waistcoat, smiling proudly, in an almost fatherly fashion as he nodded in an affirming manner, and announced, "Good work... all of you."

                _Wait a minute,_ Tom thought, regarding the hunter very seriously whilst making it seem as though he were eyeing something else, _what **was** Quatermain doing during the repairs? I don't remember seeing him outside of his cabin more than twice, and that was for meals._ Over the last couple of days, the _League_ had taken to eating in the stateroom, no longer hesitant to be in one another's company it seemed. They were growing ever closer to becoming an actually team... something that lifted Tom's spirits.

                "Captain?" Quatermain urged, turning to Nemo, who stood close to the helm beside Patel his new first mate. Tom set his jaw at the memory of Ishmael's murder, even as the captain regarded his helm crew.

                "All ahead, full!" Nemo announced, and Patel pulled on a device that rang as he did so. He moved the handle back and forwards all the way, and the slight bell of a sound carried through the bridge. Tom had - as of yet - to inquire as to the name of the device, but he was vaguely aware of its purpose. It was like a communiqué between the bridge and the engine room. 

                The Nautilus roared back into life, and the front of the vessel reared up slightly out of the waves as it sliced through them, the vessel in full working order, or so it appeared anyway. They were back in business, and Tom was filled with a satisfying sense of assurance that it would not be long now until they came upon M and Gray, and he would be able to fulfil his mission... Huck would be avenged...

* * *

                The _League_ stood in the stateroom, leaning over the table and listening to Nemo as they perused a rather beautifully depicted map of their destination. Tom leaned down on the table with his arms crossed, lower than the others to get a good vantage point of both the map and Nemo's face at the head of the table. Quatermain stood to the left of Tom, with Mina and Jekyll on the other side. 

                Mina was standing up straight with her hands knitted in front, the perfect image of a proper lady, with Jekyll resting his palms flat down on the immaculate tabletop before him. Quatermain, to the left of Tom, stood with his hands linked behind his back, looking quite casual but listening intently.

                The captain himself practically mirrored Quatermain for stance, but there was urgency and a fire in his dark eyes that told Tom their time was running out, and they needed to hasten things up. He, for one, knew that the Nautilus had increased speed over the course of a few hours. Nemo was pushing the vessel to her limits, and then some.

                "If Skinner's headings are correct, we will pass through the treacherous straits of Tartary," Nemo was telling them in a loud clear voice; his words perfectly emphasised so as not to be mistaken. His eyes met theirs each in turn, as he continued, "And enter the Amur River, which empties out into the frozen lakes of Mongolia, virtually inaccessible to outsiders." 

                "I think it is safe to say that M will not be expecting us," Mina voiced, looking around at the faces collected there, looking for acknowledgement. 

                Tom nodded. "He probably thinks we're dead."

                "So there should be no resistance in the area surrounding his stronghold," Nemo agreed. "We should have little trouble getting close. It will be entering the facility which will prove problematic."

                "Let's concentrate on getting there first," Quatermain told them calmly. Tom nodded in acknowledgement, agreeing to the older man's advice. The hunter looked down at him briefly, just as Tom eyed the map again, where Nemo had neatly sketched out their route in clear crisp lines. Tom followed them with his green eyes, and wondered how long it would take them to make the journey. 

                It seemed the way Nemo was planning it, it certainly wouldn't take them very long, just as long as the Nautilus held out...

* * *

                Under the advice of Quatermain, Tom and the others rested as much as possible on the journey. The American agent for one found it hard to sleep when confrontation was so close at hand. He tossed and turned in his bed, sighing heavily through irritation that sleep seemed so impossible and unreachable. He stared up at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, but when he looked at the small clock beside the bed, only three minutes had passed. He groaned, and rolled over onto his stomach, burying his head in the pillow for only a moment.

                When a loud knocking sounded on his door, his head shot up from the same pillow, and his eyes darted to the clock. He'd been asleep for four hours.

                _How'd that happen?_

                Instead of musing over something that did not matter, he stumbled out of his bed when the knocking sounded again, accompanied by a loud, "Sawyer? Are you awake?"

                _No... I'm sound asleep. Of course I'm awake!_ He called to the door, "Yeah... I'm up. I'm coming."

                "We've arrived." It was Quatermain.

                _Where the hell did I put my shirt?_ Tom looked from side to side, running his fingers through his hair quickly, and located the item of clothing at the foot of his bed. He pulled it on and buttoned it whilst looking for his waistcoat. It was lying over the back of the chair. He slipped it on, and checked he'd done up his pants. He fastened his boots and grabbed his jacket. He was pulling the door open as he donned it, and looked Quatermain in the face with a cheeky grin. "Told you I was up."

                The adventurer threw him a humoured glance, and tossed something at him. Tom caught it in both hands and looked down at it, then met the hunter's gaze again, saying, "Not really my style."

                Quatermain chuckled lightly. He had one in his hands also, even as Tom was eyeing his doubtfully. It was white, and felt reasonably thick, with a... well; the best word to describe the collar and cuffs was 'fluffy'. He raised an eyebrow, and looked at Quatermain again.

                "You're going to need it when we go up on deck, Sawyer," the hunter told him, slipping the coat on. Tom copied him, a little reluctantly, and followed him to the ladders up to the conning tower. They climbed them steadily, and when they opened the door up at the top, Tom's eyes widened slightly. The cold hit him in the face at once, biting at his cheeks and hands. He dropped his jaw a little at the freezing temperatures, and was suddenly thankful for the coat. Mina, Nemo and Jekyll were already on deck, dressed similarly. 

                Quatermain accepted a pair of binoculars from Nemo, and walked to the railing carefully. Tom looked down, realising the footing was a little treacherous. Mina was standing steadily at the rail, looking out through binoculars as well, like the two older members. Jekyll rubbed his hands together, and breathed on them to try and warm them up. Tom gave him a wan smile.

                Tom walked carefully to the railing to stand between the hunter and the vampire as he tucked his hands in his pockets, looking out through narrowed eyes as the snow fell gracefully down all around them. Their breath curled away from them visibly in the gnawing chill, and Jekyll kept near the rear as if eager to sap the warmth from within the very vessel itself. 

                "Peasant settlements," Quatermain said quietly from out of the blue. Tom squinted to try and see what it was that the man was referring to, and picked out small black dots in the distance that _could_ very well have been a town. "All deserted," the man added after a tense moment.

                Tom looked to Quatermain, the snow settling on his hair and in his bangs. He had tucked his hands away from the cold, but still felt it on his face, and nudged up the collar with his shoulders a little more. 

                "Why deserted?" Mina inquired softly, looking through her own binoculars at - Tom guessed - the very same thing.

                _The cold might be a good reason, but maybe that's just me..._

                "Fear no doubt," Nemo commented, and Tom looked back to the distance, and caught a glow of something unnatural on the horizon, beyond the mountains. It was industrial... Tom was sure of that.

                _M..._

                Glaring through the falling snow, Tom heard Nemo tell Quatermain that they should set off at once if they were to rendezvous with Skinner. Mina nodded, and Tom just inclined his head slightly, whilst Jekyll muttered his acknowledgements. 

                Tom hesitated on the conning tower for a moment longer, after everyone else started to descend to prepare. His eyes stared out fixatedly towards the glowing on the horizon, and he felt a deep gnawing sense of trepidation settle in, just below the determination.

* * *

                The small group trudged along through the thick snow, dragging their feet through it instead of trying to lift their heavy boots. Some of them carried heavy bags on their backs, packed with equipment and weapons. The _League_ were heading the procession, Tom and Quatermain in the lead with their rifles wrapped so they wouldn't freeze up or jam. Everybody was covered head to toe in protective insulated clothing, from coats to gloves, with head gear to keep out the chill, and even goggles to defend their eyes from the light blizzard.

                _People seriously live in places like this? How do they get anywhere? _Tom looked around as far as he could see in the snow... which wasn't very far at all. _Then again, I don't suppose there are many places **to** go._

                It took them almost an hour to even reach the settlements that the others had spoken of before, and Tom glanced around, seeing that they truly were deserted. There was not a trace of life in the huts. It looked as though they had packed up and left some time ago. The 'buildings' were close on collapsing, battered by the elements and in need of restoring.

                By the time they had started to trek up the mountain, over the low pass, Tom's feet were starting to go a little numb, and the exposed parts of his face were so cold he couldn't even feel them. He kept quiet though, knowing that the others had to be going through the same sensations, and he doubted any of them were comfortable. 

                Quatermain moved steadily but surely to the edge of the mouth of the canyon trail they had taken, which doubled as a kind of wind tunnel annoyingly enough, and pulled his goggles up. Tom followed, doing the same, looking down on a kind of fortress, a very formidable one at that, with looming towers and stone walls. There were a couple of small signs of movement, as if from guards on patrol, but they were far out of sight and in no danger of being spotted.

                Tom glowered down at the building. _M seems to be preparing for the worst... either that or he's got a whole army in there... I probably shouldn't have said that._

                Sarcastically, he said over the wind, "M's summer retreat."

                Quatermain turned his head to face his younger companion, and pointed down beneath them for emphasis as he stated, "This is where Skinner signalled he'd meet us." He sighed delicately, a slight sound that was lost to everyone behind them, except for Tom. "So we wait."

                Tom watched the man walk off to find shelter, the others taking it upon themselves to pursue him at a gradual pace, fighting against the chill and the wind. Tom stayed in his place for a moment, looking down on the ugly fortress from his vantage point, and narrowing his eyes.

                _Why do I have a bad feeling about this...?_


	10. More's The Pity

**Author's Note:** Did it take me a long time again? Ugh! I am getting so very bad at that! I beg for your forgiveness, even though this behaviour is terrible and should not _be_ forgiven. No excuse… apart from, as of now, I'm starting to work at my job a bit more, but only four or five hours a day… but hey! Money! Doesn't everybody need money? I know I do in order to feed my obsession- I meant hobby! Plus, my superior kinda up and quit, so I might be up for her job… although I'm sceptical, considering the pretty boy the bosses fancy is also a candidate…

**Scene: **The cave, leading into the fortress entry.

**Shout outs:**

**RogueSparrow: **I most certainly would _not_ want you any other way, dear Sparrow. Why, you wouldn't be the person I've grown to love *smile*. Ah, treats… marvellous, my thanks. *takes brownies, and gives one to Sawyer* There you go, that should cheer you up. A whole _year_? Wow… that's dedication to warm the heart on a chilly England eve', I'll tell you.

**Psychozzy: **I'm glad you think I capture the personalities. I took into account that this whole endeavour would be more than relaying the script to you guys… it would take depth, and I am genuinely thankful that you feel I have achieved this. Tom really didn't get that much development in the movie, which I found a great shame… a waste of talent. West has a lot to offer this part, so I hope I'm doing him justice by embellishing on his character more. Thanks again.

**angelic katty: **Yes… fanfic seems to be having a lot of problems lately… _annoying_ problems. Grrr. Sort it out please, guys! That is an awesome line, and they really did let themselves down by cutting it out, only to put it on the DVD and let us all know what we were missing anyway *remembers she is getting her DVD in three days* Woohoo! Seventeen deleted/extended scenes, here we come! (That's right… you heard me… **_seventeen_**, not twelve, Bwahaha!)

**Graymoon74: **Woohoo! Glad I encouraged you to watch the movie again, for whatever reason. I've lost count of how many times I've seen this now, shamefully enough… I think it's somewhere near fifteen… hmmm… might explain why I was able to do this huh? Lol. Yes, the extra stuff was thanks to – in most part – **Leigh S. Durron**, who supplied me with the dialogue, as I have not seen the scene yet. I thank her for that, and you all should too, lol! 

**drowchild: ***laughs at your realisation of sounding like a Hobbit* True! Well… I'm sure you don't _literally_ sound like a Hobbit! Meh… wouldn't be anything wrong with that anyway. Oops, slipping off on a tangent there. Not exactly appropriate. Yes, I included the speech. As many of you said, how could I _not_? 

**Sethoz: **Ah, my good pal, Sethoz. Missed you tonight! Funny bits? Excellent! Scratch another humour point off for Clez! I normally have trouble with comedy of any kind, as I'm quite a… oh I don't know what the word is. Angst is my thing, as some of you may or may not agree. Ahem. Glad I can make you laugh. Couldn't leave out the 'summer retreat' line could I? Have I missed a line of Tommy-Boy's dialogue yet? *wink* I'm not sure about that line though… seems a bit silly, even for good ol' Thomas. Ah well… who wants my opinion anyway, huh? Not as quick as I'd hoped, update-wise, but I hope it satisfies!

**Niani: **And what, pray tell _is_ your favourite part in the movie? Don't worry about forgetting… not a problem.

**Silent Bob 546: **Yes, kitties are awesome to have around on a cold day like today. They sit on your lap, purr, and make you cosy. Yes… Jekyll deserved some respect, and I thought it was appropriate to slot in that thought from Tom regarding our dear doctor. Ah, a Happy Bob is a good thing!

**freedomfighter82: **Hehehehe, I dunno. You get an account, and can't be bothered to log in, lol. Shower! LOL! Ah yes, I remember you ranting about the shower scene, hehe. Glad _you_ enjoyed that at least. I was waiting for at least one person to pick up on it for some reason. 

**Beck2: **I had noticed the wrapping of the guns quite early on, and when I watch it now, I can't help but realise that they've left the most important parts of their rifles _un_wrapped. They need to protect the firing mechanism. The hammer, the trigger, the levers… that kind of thing. I mean, if _they_ froze up, what use would your gun be? Make a very nice club, maybe, but pulling that trigger and firing a bullet would be outta the question, yes sir. Okay… so maybe I'm taking it too seriously. Lol.

**LotRseer3350: **Yeah, the personally inserted scenes always worry me, because I'm concerned about disrupting the flow of the movie, but it just wouldn't make sense to skip that much time. I mean… those repairs had to take a few days, right? It was a serious job they needed to do. Oh god yeah, the lack of dialogue… jeez… that was a kick in the teeth. Had to make a lot up, or just fill space with pointless description, lol! Tom's the kind of guy who takes things in and analyses them later… at least that's the impression _I_ get… so that explains him doubting Quatermain's words. 

Thank you for your comments, that goes for everyone, and again I apologise for the slow updates recently… hope this makes up for it, and the fact that you all got detailed shout outs! Lol!

* * *

                Sitting, leaned back against one of the rock walls in the closed off cave, Tom rested his head back for a moment, shifting the weight of his Winchester from hand to hand, gloves cast off now. They had got a campfire started up quite easily, mainly thanks to Nemo's men, many of whom had been recruited to come along to stop the Phantom… M… whatever and _whoever_ this man was. All Tom knew was M was nearing the end of his run, and the _League_ was going to stop him… Gray too.

                Tom could see the intent in Mina Harker's cool blue eyes, burning with a different kind of fire than that in the centre of the cave, and he was concerned she might charge off after the immortal on some kind of vendetta.

                _But with their history… I guess she has every right. _He sighed heavily, his breath slightly visible in the chill edge of the cave's interior. _A little like me with Huck and the Phantom._

                Tom cast his eyes about the cave to take in the faces of the rest of the _League_. All seemed grave, as if expecting some doom to open up the very ground beneath them and swallow them whole. _Pessimists_, he thought with a frown, laying his rifle alongside him. 

                Mina sat on the far side of the cave, her eyes closed now as if in a sleep state. Tom knew that she was thinking, running things through in her busy, scientific mind and cataloguing them for later reference. It seemed to Tom that she did that a lot. He caught himself staring at her in time to make it seem pensive and not admiring, and shifted his eyes along to the next member of the _League_.

                Dr. Jekyll was off in the corner, tending to one of the crewmen's hands. For the moment, he was just rubbing them, advising the sailor that he move closer to the fire, but not too close. Tom watched for a moment, seeing the hidden apprehension in Jekyll's dark eyes, and finding himself sympathising with the man. He wasn't used to this kind of mission… he was a doctor after all, not a hunter, a vampire or a spy, or even a pirate like the next member present.

                Captain Nemo was standing near to the fire, the flames casting an eerie glow over his already shadowed features as his dark eyes glinted with purpose, his hands knotted loosely behind his back. There was something odd about seeing the man in white, such a pure and innocent colour for a man with a past so dark. 

                Tom shifted slightly against the rather uncomfortable ground, and glanced to the mouth of the cave. Quatermain was out there, keeping guard and waiting for Skinner. He had his elephant gun out there with him, his 'donated' Winchester laying across the far side of the cave with his other items. Tom gave them a glance, and then looked back down at the thick insulated boots on his feet. Sure he was toasty, but he was starting to feel a little silly and over-burdened. Sighing, he leaned his head back again, staring at the rather blank rock ceiling.

                _C'mon, Skinner… where are you already? What's taking so long? I saw the place. It can't take that long to get from there to here, can it? Wait…_ He furrowed his brow in consideration. _He only gave us a loose basis for meeting… he's gotta find the place, which means following our tracks. Jeez… this could take forever_.

                 That was when he noticed that Nemo and Mina both tensed, as if on the alert. Tom brought his head down to look at the two of them, and reached a hand for his rifle, asking, "What's wrong?"

                "Stay here," Mina told him, standing gracefully, and walking briskly and with astounding ease – especially when weighed down in the coat and boots – to the mouth of the cave, Nemo striding along behind her. Tom suddenly felt a little useless, and gripped the stock of the Winchester more firmly, glancing once to the ever-wary Jekyll.

                The doctor was looking on after the vampire and the captain in anticipation of what might happen, and Tom cocked his head to listen, hearing Mina say faintly, "We heard a noise," before they passed out of his earshot.

                _Dammit_, he thought to himself with just a touch of chagrin. He stared at the opening for a long time before realising – with perhaps a hint of both disappointment and relief in an odd mix – that nothing was the matter, and there was no need to worry. His grip on his prized rifle loosened, and was released altogether after a brief hesitation, just in case he had jumped to a conclusion. He glanced to Jekyll with a brief flash of a smile.

                The other man eased visibly, and went back to helping the chilled sailors. Tom glanced to him for a moment, before returning his watch on the cave mouth.

                _I wonder what's going on out there_.

                Of course, his question was answered in one way when Mina's abrupt scream pierced the interior of the cave, and Tom shot to his feet, snatching up the rifle with one hand, and cocking it, his mind flashing back to his first meeting with the _League_ in Gray's library. He had leapt in to defend the woman then, even though she had far from needed it.

                It wasn't long – even as Tom was pacing to the cave mouth with Jekyll looking on with wide eyes – until an invisible form brushed past him with an abrupt, "'cuse me, Sawyer."

                "Skinner…" he muttered, and with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, reclaimed his seat on the floor, thumping back down heavily and wishing he had some padding… not that the coat was doing a terrible job of that. 

                "Any spare clothes in this place by any chance?" Skinner asked with a slight tremble to his voice to show he was cold. Tom could see the last settled flakes of snow on the man's bare shoulders melting away as he spoke. There was a shuffling, and Quatermain, Mina and Nemo strode back into the cave, the former wearing a look of frustration as he snatched the cover from his head, revealing his wispy white hair. He walked over to his belongings, and tossed a bag irritably at the melting airborne snow. 

                Skinner made a noise as though the wind had been knocked from him, and wheezed, "Take it easy, Allan, I was only messing about!"

                Mina had a look of sheer fury in her eyes, and she took a wide berth of Skinner. Tom noticed a certain disturbed area in her coat, and glared at the bag Skinner was opening. He hadn't… surely! At a time like this?

                _He's got some nerve… this is a serious situation, and he's going around feeling up women!_ Tom narrowed his eyes, and placed his Winchester beside him, slipping his Colts out of his concealed holsters and opening the chamber on one. He placed the other one down next to him, and opened his coat more to get access to his waistcoat, where he stored the spare bullets. He began to check and replace the ammunition in the Colt, all the while watching Skinner dress and paint himself, acting as though he had not done anything irresponsible.

                The man started to paint his face quickly and with precise ease, considering he had done the same act countless times before. He slipped his leather coat on, and then one of Nemo's offered insulated jackets over the top, looking very much the snug thief. He shrugged himself into the coats, and muttered, "Much better." He slipped his pince-nez into place, and glanced to his companions.

                "Anybody miss me?"

                "Enough, Skinner," Nemo commented gruffly, standing on the other side of the fire from the previously invisible man, who raised a brow as if shocked by the captain's comment.

                _Well what was he expecting? Hugs and kisses?_ Tom scoffed quietly, slotting one of the bullets back into his pistol, and turning his eyes on Quatermain as he sorted through his bags as if looking for something. 

                Everyone turned their impatient gaze upon Skinner, and the man might have rolled his eyes… but none of them could tell. Finally, he launched into the beginnings of his tale; "With all the suspicion on the ship, I knew you wouldn't believe I wasn't the spy." He glanced to Mina as he said this for some reason, perhaps accusing her silently of pointing fingers. "Well, I thought it best to… disappear."

                _Don't blame him. I wonder what Nemo would have done if it hadn't been revealed it was Gray like it was… Ishmael wouldn't be dead for one… damn, now I'm confusing myself._ He turned his attention back to Skinner, even as Quatermain stood up straight and tall – and tall he most certainly was – to regard the thief.

                "So what are we dealing with?" he asked gravely, his determination flashing in his dark eyes and filling Tom with a new sense of confidence. With Allan Quatermain, it seemed they would have more than a fighting chance… he had a lot of endearing qualities that Tom actually envied him for, but he had also suffered greatly, and for that… Tom was truly sorry for the older man.

                Skinner started to circle the fire as he began to regale them with his detailed tale, eyeing them in turn as he spoke, "The fortress is vast." He said this heavily, with regret, as if they would have a tough time of even penetrating the castle-like monstrosity of a building. 

                _That much was obvious from the outside_.

                "Furnaces produce iron for making M's weapons of destruction," Skinner pressed on, and there was more confidence in his voice than Tom had ever heard. He started to look on the man with a new respect, smiling ever so slightly, even as Skinner persisted, "They're pieced together on the factory floor by a private army of ruthless men who share his vision."

                _Great… just what we need. An army!_ Tom inwardly groaned.

                "But the worst was to come," Skinner said to them, turning his shaded gaze upon them each individually in turn briefly. "In the dry dock… M's best minds pervert Nemo's dream."

                Tom hesitated, and then glanced to the Indian captain as the man realised the weight of the words, and his shoulders visibly dropped with the impact as he said disbelievingly, "The Nautilus?"

                Skinner was standing beside Quatermain once again, head tilted to one side subtlely, and he corrected, "Nauti_loi_. There's eight for now."

                _Oh, that is not good… a fleet of these, and you can say goodbye to any nation._

                Nemo pushed the subject on, but it was clear the last revelation had angered him… either that or disturbed him, as he asked, "What about the kidnapped scientists?"

                "M holds their families hostage," Skinner revealed, and Tom was certain he caught the slight edge of disgust to the man's voice, but he couldn't be absolutely sure. His expression was veiled rather convincingly to avoid giving anything away as he concluded, "The men work… or the women and children die."

                _Congratulations, M… you have just reached a new level in twisted madness_, Tom thought without humour, and heard Nemo's practical growl of, "Monstrous." Tom agreed wholeheartedly with a slight nod of the head that seemed lost on everyone.

                But when it seemed the tale was told, Skinner took to pacing once again, and began anew, saying clearly, "Well that isn't the half of it. The scientists are forced to work night and day to make new versions of _us_."

                _What is he talking about now?_ Tom vaguely recalled something about Gray 'collecting' parts of certain people. He wasn't sure how to feel about being the only one avoided in that collection. Even Quatermain had been thrown for a loop for some reason, but since he had joined of his own accord, Tom had been skipped in the compilation.

                _You should be happy about that_, he told himself.

                Skinner pressed on with the explanation briskly, "Invisible spies; an army of Hyde's; vampiric assassins. M leaves today with a sample case of the chemicals to sell to the most eager nation."

                The severity settled into Tom instantly, and he felt the cold dread gnaw at the very pit of his stomach. _Invisible spies, more Hyde's than any rivalling army will be able to manage, and vampires flying around assassinating world leaders. Oh, this just gets better and better._ Tom's felt his jaw set grimly, and he glanced to their leader.

                Jekyll spoke for the first time, and it was odd to hear the anger in his voice again as he said, "I'll not let my evil infect the world."

                "Do you think any of us feel differently?" Mina challenged coldly from above the seated doctor, looking down on him guardedly. Jekyll did not respond.

                The only one who seemed indifferent about his 'collection' was Skinner, who moved on to formulate his own plan pensively, as he shuffled past Nemo, "Chimney pipes lace the building, and bombs in the furnaces would make quite a bang."

                _Okay… is **Skinner** coming up with a plan here? Now I've seen everything…_

                "But someone needs to blow that place to hell… and I _am_ least likely to be seen." Skinner walked right up to Quatermain as he finished his offering, and looked the man straight in the face, determination pulsing from him in waves. Tom's respect for Skinner shot up another notch.

                "Skinner," Quatermain began, staring straight back, "I didn't know you were such a bare-faced liar."

                _… Did I miss something?_

                "All this time pretending you weren't a hero." Quatermain paced up beside Mina, who had wandered to the cave mouth to peer out whimsically. Tom felt the relief hit him, as he understood that Quatermain had been misleading Skinner in his intention.

                Skinner smiled cockily. "Well, shut up or I'll come to my senses," he offered as a quip, and then added with a sigh, " and besides… any more like me, and I lose a franchise."

                _Now **that's** the Skinner I know_, Tom thought with the beginnings of another smile. It faded away almost as soon as it had popped up. He stood from his seat swiftly then, and holding the barrel of his Winchester with one hand, cocked it loudly and firmly with the other. He had slipped his Colts away without even realising himself. Quatermain turned on him, a rifle in his own hand, and raised it slightly as a signal for Tom to stop. The young man did, unsure of what the hunter planned to do. He regarded him curiously.

                "No," he began clearly, looking Tom in the eye to begin with, before glancing to the others as well, "this cannot be a hunt to the death." His gaze fell back upon Tom solely, as he added, "More's the pity." Tom did not smile. Quatermain persisted, "M must be taken alive if his secrets are to be uncovered."

                _Fat chance that he'd tell us anything_, Tom thought to himself, knowing that sharing this opinion may very well lose him some of the respect he had gained a few days ago back on the Nautilus after the bomb incident. 

                From the mouth of the cave, Mina's smooth voice could be heard as she declared, "Not Gray." The edge that crept through her tone as she practically hissed her next words was a little eerie; "He's lived long enough."

                Shouldering his rifle casually, Tom offered, "Oh, I'll handle him."

                _But what could **I** do against an immortal anyway? I should have thought of that before I offered, maybe._

                "No," Mina said simply, sternly, half turning her head back to look over her shoulder, though her eyes did not meet Tom's. The American knew, however, that there was to be no argument. He fell silent, defeated, and knew that Mina wished to settle the vendetta personally. He couldn't blame her, and understood entirely. If anyone got to kill M… he wanted to be the one to do it.

                Jekyll stood from his perch on the rock, and paced up beside the captain even as Quatermain addressed them as a pair, the cogs turning in his mind to finalise the plan; "Nemo, you and Hyde will free the prisoners."

                The dark, wise eyes landed on Tom's young face again as he said, "Sawyer and I will handle M."

                _I should be thankful for that, at least._ Tom knew he still – potentially – had a lot to learn from Quatermain, and he was more than willing to accept the lessons if the hunter was up for teaching him.

                Quatermain looked around the cave, and allowed the almost eager smile to creep onto his face as he announced quietly, "And the game is on."

                Tom gave in to his own smile after that comment, filled with pride at being part of such a determined team, setting out on a mission that could very well save the world from a war that would tear it apart. There was something rewarding in that knowledge alone… regardless of victory of failure in the end… just trying was incentive enough.

* * *

                The insulated coats and boots were abandoned in the cave as the _League_ – Nemo's able-bodied crew trailing along behind – led the way down from the shelter. Thankfully, the snow had ceased, almost welcoming them on their endeavour. Tom glanced skyward, and smiled wanly at the small grace. 

                Halfway along the trail, Jekyll halted and drew his formula from his pocket, removing the stopper without a moment's hesitation and downing the clear contents. The _League_ turned their eyes as the painful and rather frightening transformation took place, but they were close enough to hear it, as Jekyll's body twisted and turned and contorted into that of Edward Hyde, who soon stood grinning in the snow, the tattered shreds of the doctor's neat attire hanging limply from his body. He knew what was transpiring, and he was enthusiastic. That much was clear in his narrowed eyes. For once, he didn't swing at anyone, and Tom was grateful for that as well.

                _So far, so good,_ he thought, hoping he wouldn't put a jinx on the whole operation in musing that way. The group trudged on through the snow, and Skinner's footprints started to press on ahead as planned. He was to scout around near the guards and incapacitate them long enough for the _League_ to make their stealthy entrance. 

                Hyde moved off quickly behind him, but hanging back so that their arrival was not so prominently obvious. It was a little hard to miss the alter ego of Dr. Jekyll, unless you were looking in completely the wrong direction.

                Tom and Quatermain walked along with Nemo and Mina by their sides. The woman tilted her head with a smile, even as the growl of Hyde was heard, eagerly anticipating his job. Tom and Quatermain held their Winchester rifles, their long coats billowing out behind them like extended living shadows.

                Nemo walked proudly, head held high, his crew never straying in their stride. They were determined not to fail their captain, and Tom had a feeling they would willingly die for him. The looks on their stoic faces was evidence enough of this.

                Mina suddenly started to fade into a cloud of bats from her place beside Tom, and he managed not to flinch as their wings disturbed his blonde locks slightly, chattering enthusiastically as they lifted the vampire from the snow and towards the fortress looming into view, carrying her with unnatural speed and awe-inspiring ease.

                Tom glanced to Quatermain with the hauntings of a smile on his youthful face. The hunter returned it. Nemo kept his eyes fixed forward, even as the sounds of Skinner clubbing a guard with his own automatic weapon were heard, ringing out across the plain of snow to their ears. Hyde's low roar was heard not long after, and they cleared the hill in time to see him smash the second guard _into_ the snow, as Mina's bats soared through the gratings to the building. 

                She would open the door for them shortly, and the small procession moved down the other side of the slight mound to meet her. It was only a matter of a few minutes before the deep clang of the bolt could be heard sliding aside, and she opened the barricade with a smile. Her hair had fallen loose from its pinnings, and Tom noticed the sudden curl.

                _A vampire trait_, he surmised, thinking this to be the only explanation for such a swift alteration. He couldn't help but notice how stunning she looked, clad in leathers and long coat, her hair hanging around her face like a dark mysterious frame, sharp contrast to her icy gaze. 

                As a team, the _League_ entered M's 'impenetrable' fortress…


	11. Mask and Mystery

**Author's Note**: Well, hope the wait wasn't too long. I didn't leave it on a cliffy so it shouldn't have been too bad. Now that I have my proper DVD, it should start to get more… what's the word? Smooth? Flow-y? Who knows… I'll let you decide that one. Oh yes… there is one added line of dialogue from the book, that _should_ have been – I think – in the movie, so… you'll know it when you read it *wink* Ack! Only three parts after this, guys!

**Scene: **Storming the fortress…

**Shout outs:**

**RogueSparrow: **I was very fond of that last chapter also. Made perfect sense, Sparrow, and hurry and get back online so we can ramble via messenger!

**Psychozzy: **I just _had_ to explain that sudden hair change! It bugs me, but the vampirism does kinda make sense. Thanks.

**Leigh S. Durron: **I'm glad you think that, Leigh. Thanks.

**angelic katty: **Hooray! Another positive comment about the hair! Thanks!

**LotRseer3350: **Twas a hard bit to write  O_o  Thanks.

**Graymoon74: **I think she was wearing the leather when they left the Nautilus… but don't quote me on that. Don't hold your breath for too long!

**Niani: **Hehe, it is hard to choose a favourite scene in a film with so many gems. I have that problem myself. Thanks for the review.

**Sethoz: **You and that Landon line! Gets me every time, and you _know_ that, and you use it against me! Lol! Aww, there, there *pats Sethoz on back* It'll be all right.

**Beck2: **I can't imagine trying to keep Mina and Hyde out of _anywhere_, lol. Pretty tough job. 

**Silent Bob 546: **Happy Bob! Hooray!

**kingleby: **As you probably already know, I agree with the whole 'Tom-pushed-into-the-background' thing. Otherwise, why would I be writing this? Thanks kindly for you review and your attentions.  ~_^

* * *

                Tom walked behind Quatermain, rifle at the ready in his hands, glancing over his shoulder at the guards that had been incapacitated along the lengthy corridor. Hyde had made short work of them, and Tom grimaced at the sounds he remembered hearing when he and the others had been following them, after waiting for Skinner to don his coat and hat – the reason behind which was lost on Tom – and smear the greasepaint on his features. He supposed it was so they could see him while they needed to… but Tom thought it a little awkward considering the need for stealth shortly.

                _Maybe he's worried we'll never actually **see** him again… it's what everyone's thinking_. The looks on their faces confirmed the morbid musing. The corridor had seemed endless, almost a kind of odd omen to what was to come. 

                Hyde emerged from the corridor first; pressing out into the cavernous foyer, where it was revealed a great crack had split the room almost in two over their heads. Nemo followed behind the monstrous alter ego, many of his crew spreading out after him as he directed them down the sides of the room, carrying guns of a unique and interesting design that both intrigued and confused Tom. Was there no end to Nemo's creativity?

                Quatermain entered the entrance hall next – for there was truly no other real way to describe it – with Tom on his heels. Skinner was behind him, carrying an impressive string of bombs down one arm. Mina came in last, looking as beautiful and deadly as Tom had ever seen her, her leather coat flowing out behind her like a wicked, stealthy shadow, her dark auburn hair in tight curls about her sombre face.

                _I really need to stop noticing her_, he thought with a slight frown. He knew he couldn't have her, and he would just have to live with it. True, she had never completely shunned him, but he could tell when he wasn't wanted in that aspect. Becky had taught him that lesson the last time they had been together, and it was still painfully fresh in his memory.

                _This is not the time, Sawyer_, he quickly reminded himself, and came to a stop beside Quatermain, looking into the pensive faces of the other five collected. They regarded one another as though they might never meet again, determined yet carrying an undertone of melancholy that made Tom feel rather disheartened. Were they really so pessimistic?

                Hyde paced over to them last, taking a quick look around, before – with vehemence and swift decisiveness – raising his hand to the middle of the group, an offer.

                Looking to one another, the _League_ placed their hands one on top of the other, slowly, but gradually gathering confidence, before Tom, Skinner and finally Quatermain had made their contribution to Hyde's rather unexpected offer.

                Then they parted, after one long last look at the others' faces… finally a team.

                Casting a glance over his shoulder to watch the retreat of his companions – and what he liked to think could be potential friends one day – as they went off on their individual missions, Tom sighed quietly, before taking off after the hunter on their endeavour to find M. Looking up and around him, Tom took in their surroundings. The vast foyer was cracked down the middle of the roof, with snow fluttering down softly, almost soothingly, to settle for a moment on the floor before melting away into non-existence.

                There was assorted, loose rubble scattered here and there, potential trip hazards should the walker divert their attention unwisely for a moment. Tom kept his eyes ahead, determination filling him again at the confident pace to Quatermain's jog in front of him. The hunter had his elephant gun slung over his shoulder, an emergency weapon should the lever-action Winchester fail him… not that it would. At least, Tom hoped it wouldn't. 

                They pushed through out of the foyer, and into a huge room, rivalling the last for size, filled in lines with pillared columns. They ran down each side, splitting it up and creating many effective hiding places for prospective ambush. 

                _Good a place as any to take Quatermain's advice to heart… eyes open._

                Casting his wary gaze about, alert for any signs of unwelcome movement, he heard the hunter say, "Skinner said to turn right at the column."

                Tom resisted the urge to laugh, instead offering sarcastically, "Oh great, which one?"

                But it seemed Quatermain had his own sense of direction, and was confident enough in said instinct to turn where he deemed fit. "This way," he said quietly, taking a definite left between two of the columns and heading off again.

                _Wait… I may not have been much of a book learner, but I'm pretty sure I know my left from my right. And **this** is not right._ Tom furrowed his brow, and then swallowed the doubt, saying in return to the hunter, "You lead; I'll follow."

                They turned another bend, still travelling at a steady paced jog, alert for any signal of attack or alarm that would show they had been spotted. Not surprisingly, the corridor they found themselves travelling down was colossal for height as well, long enough to not be able to see the end until they were at least a good halfway down it.

                _This place is pretty creepy. Not to mention in need of repair… what good is building an empire if you're going to start off in a place that's snowed under most of the time?_ Then he rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. _But then again, no one's gonna come looking for you out here, after all. Maybe M's not as brainless as I thought… or hoped._ He frowned. _Dammit._

                The two gunmen exited the long corridor, with Tom looking over his shoulder with his hands readied on his rifle, before turning back to see that they were approaching a steep balcony of sorts, made entirely of stone like with the rest of the fortress, overlooking a laboratory. Men were rushing about everywhere, some with test tubes, some with boxes, and others with guns. They were shouting at the workers.

                "The scientists," Tom pointed out, realising afterwards just how obvious that really was, and feeling a little sheepish. He pushed it down so as to replace the embarrassed look for one of confidence again, and glanced to his leader and mentor.

                Quatermain nodded slightly, saying, "They're for Nemo."

                Tom nodded briskly in agreement, and started off after the hunter when the older man saw it fit that they did not delay any longer. Tom was thankful he was in his prime, fit and athletic, and most certainly used to running. If not, he would have been tiring by that point, his legs protesting. With a wry smile, he remembered the amount of running back and forth he had undertaken as a child, both in day and night, whether it be to or from school, or in flight from murderous individuals such as Injun Joe.

                _Focus… don't let your guard slip. Stop daydreaming already_. Tom noticed he was chiding and second-guessing himself a lot lately, analysing all of his actions as if afraid to slip up in front of someone so infamous as Allan Quatermain.

                The sounds of industrial work soon floated to them on the stale air, carrying with an echo until it rang clear, and they were able to follow it effectively to a much steeper drop. Regardless of the distance between the two men and the soldiers running about below, they kept themselves concealed as well as possible, hanging back and out of sight to avoid being discovered. A long staircase split the room, and travelled all the way up to some kind of office above, the lights out. Needless to say, it was obvious M was not in that office. Huge armoured vehicles that had been titled tanks – Tom had inquired when overlooking the blueprints on the Nautilus; he had never seen anything like them – lined the floor below, being pieced together by workers who seemed focused on their task.

                A speaker blared into life all around, and Tom ducked down almost instinctively at the abruptness as it announced, "Prepare the armaments for shipment. Prepare the armaments for shipment."

                "You, help him out!" called a voice from below, and Tom peered over the drop – which most certainly would have killed a man, he realised with a slight frown – to see one individual scurrying off to assist another, indicated by a soldier holding a weapon.

                "They're moving out," Tom informed Quatermain, looking back to him and pulling back from the edge slowly and steadily, glancing around to check they were alone and safe.

                "Let's hope Skinner is up to the task," the hunter replied whimsically, glancing sidelong at his young protégé… or at least that was how Tom supposed Quatermain looked on him.

                _With Skinner's recent behaviour… looks as though he could pull off anything he puts his mind to. He's been acting all along, pretending he's just interested in annoying Mina and getting an easy ride. He's got stealth and talent beyond that… I wonder why he was afraid to show it. It would only have helped our opinions of him._ Tom felt a little guilty in regards to blaming Skinner for the treachery until Gray had been revealed, and he made up his mind to make up for it someday in the near future, however possible. The man deserved more than pointless, unfounded accusations. _He deserves no less than what Quatermain has given me… a chance._

* * *

                All of his senses in overdrive to alert him at the first possible moment should something threaten; Tom walked alongside his mentor down one of the eerily silent corridors, waiting almost eagerly for something – anything – to happen. It was too quiet… something was going to happen soon; Tom had an odd feeling.

                Glancing sidelong to Quatermain, he saw the anticipation in the older man's dark eyes, the same thing he knew was clearly visible on his own features… although perhaps less subtle. Tom swallowed the hesitation in his throat, and gripped the Winchester only tighter when he thought he heard something, even as the two gunmen proceeded into a kind of fork in the corridor, one hallway branching off to the right of Tom. A small table separated the walkway, and a definite noise – like that of something being dropped carelessly – down the corridor made Tom raise the rifle in a heartbeat, only to be disappointed.

                Nothing.

                _Stop being so jumpy, or at the first sign of **real **trouble you're gonna blow it_. The thought succeeded in calming him slightly, easing his racing heart, and making him progress slowly towards the door that Quatermain had reached. He clearly knew this to be the place they had been searching for… M's quarters. 

                _This is it_, he told himself, and stepped through the door behind Quatermain, as the man quickly scanned the room with his eyes. Tom closed the door quietly, and after a nod from the hunter, set off toward the door directly opposite in what appeared to be a simple entrance to what was bound to be an overly lavish room beyond. Tom tried the handle, finding it unlocked. He turned it quietly, and crept inside, cocking back the slim hammer on the Winchester as he stepped clear, raising the weapon slightly. 

                Quatermain was behind him, closing the door stealthily, and the two men – so differing in age, appearance and outlook, yet so frightfully similar – paced forward, armed and ready.

                An odd sound drew their attention to the right when they emerged from the small alcove from the door. The two men stopped, their eyes moving over from the large table where an ornate – and irritably familiar – golden mask sat, glinting slightly in the wan light. They could see the reflection of a noticeably smug man sitting in a chair that reclined slightly, shown clearly in a long mirror, his head tilted back as another man ran a cutthroat razor over his face.

                M.

                Tom felt his right hand tighten around the firing mechanism of the rifle, but before the two could step into the room any further in order to ambush the casual man, a door burst open off to their left. 

                _Damn timing!_ Tom and Quatermain reeled backwards from the interruption, and ducked back into the alcove, rifles held against their bodies for concealment, falling silent save for their light, stealthy breathing. Tom's eyes burned into the back of the man who darted across the room, calling out, "James!"

                _Who the hell is James? _

                The man practically skipped up the twin steps to the adjoining room where M was having his moustache shaved, and now that Tom saw him better, it appeared his hair – at least from the photos he had seen – had altered as well.

                _Did it really take us that long to get here?_ Tom thought with a pang of shame. He prayed they weren't too late.

                "Here's your box of tricks," the man continued, placing down a container on the small table beside M, and unfastening the lid. "The brute's potion; the vampire's blood; the Indian's science; and mounted samples of invisible skin." He pushed the box forward, almost an invitation to M.

                Tom's face twisted into a scowl as he glared, eyes narrowing. Quatermain was looking at him, perhaps concerned that the young man's temper would get the better of him, and that he would do something careless. Tom wanted to tell him that he would not do anything out of place… anything that would risk the success of Quatermain's plan… but he would not be able to hold to that promise, and the need for silence saved him the trouble, as he simply glanced to the hunter.

                "They'll be all the rage in Europe," M said with a cocky smile, still sitting casually in his leather chair, leaning back slightly.

                The other man grinned maniacally, and added, "The Nautiloid is fuelled and ready."

                _Not only has he stolen the _League_, but he's also heading off to start his damn war in Nemo's pod… son of a – _

                His thoughts were interrupted – or shattered rather – by the sound of another door that had to be around the corner, slamming open, and a panicked accented voice calling out, "Intruders! Indians! I think it's Captain Nemo and his men!"

                _Well there goes the element of surprise…_

                "How many times do I have to _kill_ these cretins?" M growled, and Tom saw a towel launch itself into the barber's arms, the other man starting slightly, his dark eyes darting to the armour-plated stranger who had brought the box, who started forward as M continued, "Make this the last."

                "Damn them." Tom thought he heard the armoured man grumble as he disappeared from sight. The subsequent shutting of the mystery door was the only obvious indication that he had left, hopefully taking the guard with him. Everything was quiet until M turned and stormed to a coat rack, where a large blue – and familiar like the mask – cloak was hung, snatching it down as if it had offended him, slipping it on. 

                He shot a scathing look at the barber, one that was lost in its reasoning on both the man in question and Tom, and then descended the steps, ensuring he had his 'box of tricks' in his hand. 

                Quatermain was moving from his hiding place with astounding agility and catlike surreptitiousness, raising the Winchester rifle as he did so, even as M – oblivious – took a hold on his golden 'Phantom' mask. When he stood up straight again from the retrieval, the barrel of the hunter's rifle was against the base of his skull.

                Tom had taken up a defensive, prepared position behind his mentor, gun levelled steadily, eyes fixed on M's back, boring into the rear of his head, wondering if simply wishing a man dead with enough vehemence would make it so.

                "Do not move, M," Quatermain warned, narrowing his own eyes. "Or would you prefer 'Professor James Moriarty'?" The barrel nudged M in the back slightly. "Hmm?"

                _Moriarty…? Isn't… wait… the guy who killed Sherlock Holmes? And Quatermain was going to share this knowledge **when** exactly?_ Tom's confusion threatened to tear his skull apart from the inside, but he did not waver, only glanced briefly to his colleague as if to search for any signs of explanation.

                When M – or the Phantom, or Moriarty; whatever he chose to be called – spoke, it was with a very discernible accent, different to his previous clipped tones and precise pronunciations… the act was gone, the charade dead and buried… this was him… the _real_ murderer and madman. This was Moriarty… and he sounded a little like Skinner.

                "Professor James Moriarty? The so-called 'Napoleon of Crime'?" He gave a wry, humourless chuckle. 

                _Seems a little pretentious a title if you ask me._ But Tom knew no one had asked him for his opinion, and so kept it to himself.

                "That man died at Reichenbach Falls," Moriarty grumbled loudly, obviously burned by the memory, "he _died_… and I was reborn."

                _He really **does** like the sound of his own voice._

                Suddenly, something in Tom tensed, and he felt a very definite presence trying to creep up behind him. Using his instinct and his reflexes, he rammed the stock of his rifle backwards, half-twisting in time to see the wood smash into the unprotected face of a guard, who dropped their dagger with a clatter, before collapsing himself, blood running from his – most probably – broken nose.

                Tom turned his body back to what had been a triumphant scene only moments before in time to see Moriarty darting off to the left for the second doorway, Quatermain reeling as if struck during the distraction.

                The green eyes widened at the obvious glint of a blade in the light as Moriarty drew it from his cloak and hurled it.

                "Watch out!" Tom threw himself bodily into Quatermain, sending the two of them crashing to the ground and out of the path of the blade, which lodged itself into the wall instead. Tom glanced up at it, and then to the doorway, seeing Moriarty had fled.

                _Weasel…_

                Tom turned his attention back on the man he had just bowled into, and gripped him gently by the shoulder to attract his attention, allowing a rather cocky smirk to play over his face as he said, "Eyes open, boy," – he glanced quickly around to check they were not under threat – "can't protect you all the time."

                He hurried himself to his feet, reclaiming his dropped Winchester and dusting himself off briskly, offering an arm to Quatermain. The hunter gripped it thankfully, and heaved himself from the floor, glaring with contempt out the door that Moriarty had used, grumbling, "Come on."

                Tom nodded swiftly; giving the room one final glance over, noticing the barber had taken the oppurtunity to make himself scarce.

                _Steadfast company M keeps… sure wouldn't want a crisis with these guys around._

                Quatermain set off at a swift and steady pace after Moriarty, listening with highly tuned senses to pick out the man's retreating footsteps, with Tom running behind him, matching his speed. Tom was soon able to hear Moriarty's flight himself, and he set his jaw grimly in determination… he _would_ catch him, and he _would_ see to it that Huckleberry Finn was avenged.

                As they turned a corner, their pace picking up in speed and urgency, Tom thought he caught a glimpse of Moriarty's flowing cloak as he dashed into a doorway. Quatermain pressed on, and Tom made to follow him, startled when a very solid form slammed into his left side, almost unbalancing him and sending him half into the wall, his Winchester dropped from his grasp. 

                Quatermain stopped noticeably, concerned perhaps, or maybe even irritated by the unplanned interruption in the chase. Tom's eyes darted about for the cause of the collision, and a tapestry on the opposite wall fluttered without the aid of the wind. There was someone there… they just weren't visible.

                "Skinner?" he inquired, brow furrowed, and then realised he was holding the hunter up on his pursuit. He pushed away from the wall, and held a hand aloft to show Quatermain he was unharmed and in no danger. Though he _was_ incredibly irritated, it was only another member of the _League_, and maybe Skinner could help trap Moriarty.

                At Quatermain's questioning glance, Tom called, "It's okay, it's Skinner."

                The hunter jogged away, and Tom – annoyed and curious as to what the invisible thief was doing lurking around the corridors – snatched at his coat to pull it off.

                _Wait… why didn't Skinner stop Moriarty?_ He decided it was probably because the villain had been too fast and abrupt for Skinner, and he tugged his jacket free of his arms, grumbling, – his eyes fixed on the spot where he thought the man might be – "What the _hell_ are you doing here?" The beginnings of a curious smile touched his face.

                The tapestry shifted again, as though being moved to collect something, and a voice answered his question… though the cockney London accent was gone.

                "What makes you think I'm Skinner?"

                That was when a very visible, glinting dagger appeared from behind the concealment of the tapestry, and Tom's eyes widened in horrified realisation.

                _Okay… **not** Skinner… **not** good._

                "My name is Sanderson Reed."

                With a flash, the knife lunged.


	12. Bullet, Flame & Blade

**Author's Note:** That's right folks… I'm back, with an update at last! Sorry I left you hanging with that knife floating in front of Tom for so long! Work got crazy (crazier might be a better word), and I got a bit lazy. Not as good as other excuses, but it's flat out honest. Hmm, odd phrase that. Oh well! On with the show, 'eh?

**Scene: **The knife fight. (All right, all right, calm down! Lol)

**Shout Outs:**

**RogueSparrow: **Yup indeedy, Tom _is_ cute… a hell of a lot, bless him. Anyway, enough of that, hmm? You and me can do that over PM, right? No need to show other people, heh. Aw, whap him on the head? That's not very nice… until 'Skinner' quite prominently stayed silent, **_I_** thought that was who it was… you don't believe me do you? Fine, fine… : P Socks! Um… sorry, just had sugar *crosses fingers behind back*****

**angelic katty: **I have a sense of humour?! Wow! Awesome! In case you hadn't guessed, I'm not much of a comedian… comedienne… whatever. Lol. All these different words. No wonder English is one of the most difficult languages in the world. Me? Evil! Bwahaha! Why, dear Katty, whatever gave you _that_ im- oh, okay, I can't deny it. Too tempting! Cookie? Thanks! *takes cookie gratefully and munches*

**Silent Bob 546: **Um… was that sarcastic at the beginning? Lol. I couldn't tell, but… never mind. You don't talk like that in real life do you? Cuz I have a rubber chicken here and I know how to use it, Mwahahaha! 

**Graymoon74: **Ah yes, the remarks… part of what makes this so fun, lol.

**Leigh S. Durron: **Nice? When, dear Leigh, have you ever known me to be nice in how I write? The amount of awful stuff I've done to my favourite characters… ahem, didn't need to remind you of that now, did I? Hehe. Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint you anyway.

**Sethoz: **Aw, thanks, buddy! Gah, they should have kept the Reed line in the film! Otherwise, who the hell was he? Just some random invisible English person! That's right… it would have been cool for that to be revealed. Oh well… can't have it all, can we? You know very well what's gonna happen to Tom, lol. Ack, Landon lines! A weakness! Oh wait… that would be quite fun to see if you could quote Landon in all of your reviews for me now, hehehehe. Bwahaha! I _dare_ you! : )

**LotRseer3350: **Ah, never said the end of chapter 11 wasn't going to be a cliffhanger did I? Lol. I've watched the actor commentary… funny stuff! Jason and Tony are hilarious! But, ack! Why couldn't they have Shane in the room _with_ them?  O_o

**drowchild: **Now, as to your ponderings regarding this chapter… I was tempted to mix them both together, but then I figured it might screw up later on, cuz I'd probably forget what I was using, and so I'm (possibly unfortunately) sticking with what we saw on screen. The one in the book was more violent, but I loved when he grabbed the knife, I was like "Go Sawyer!" ^_^ 

**Niani: ***takes can of ineffective cliffy spray from you, and tosses it over her shoulder* Now, now… none of that. You know we all love cliffhangers, lol. Where would we be without them, hmm? In some boring land of predictability, that's where! ^_^

**Psychozzy: **There were some of Tom's lines that made me cringe, cuz it seemed that whenever the writer thought of something obvious or silly, he said "Meh, I'll give it to Sawyer, no one will care." _ D'oh. *slaps writer* Oops… I didn't mean it, please write another film! I do read though all my work carefully before I post it… _religiously_. I'm quite a geek in that aspect as well, but I'm glad it puts your mind at ease.

**kingleby: **He will indeed get his revenge! Yay! Hey, never thought of the whole Quatermain influence, but I like that. Cool.

**Chisara Notell: **Welcome. Would this be your favourite part by any chance? Lol. Just a guess; tell me if I'm right.

**freedomfighter82: ***puts Muse on* I know… very funny. Anyway, on to your shout out. Don't apologise for going away, just cuz I'm jealous that you went for a vacation, and I didn't… okay, I'm fine now. Jealousy over and done with. *watches you cheerlead* Cool, pulled off like a pro, dear Fighter. Thank you. *hands you throat medicine*

Are you ready for this? Hope – with all my heart – that it satisfies!

* * *

                _Okay… this is really not good… I should have realis-_

                Tom's thought was cut short when the knife started to weave towards him, and he was forced to dive to the side, hearing the blade crash against the stone wall. With every new stab attempt – aimed directly at his face – Tom gave a slight yelp, his hair tossed in his eyes irritably enough, and making his focus difficult. He ducked to the side as the knife careened towards him again, and he soon found himself backed into a corner, eyes wide at the shredded painting he had just passed.

                Reed – for that was how he had identified himself – hovered for a moment, knife seemingly with a life and mind of its own, bobbing, before it lunged forward with startling speed.

                Tom's eyes widened with alarm, and he ducked his head immediately, losing his balance and crashing to the floor, using his hands for stability as he almost fell flat on his back with another startled cry. The knife spun to face him, and Reed brought it down, aiming for Tom's legs.

                The American started shuffling backwards quickly, his mind in overdrive. _Where the **hell** is my gun?_ He groped out behind him with a hand frantically as the blade gleamed in the light shining through cracks in the walls, permitting natural illumination. Tom thought he felt air brush past his pants' leg, and whimpered slightly, before taking a chance, and rocking back on his elbows, slamming his booted feet into Reed's unprotected chest, sending the invisible man flying backwards with the force.

                 As he moved to rise, he felt the solid shape behind him, and almost shouted in triumph, forcing the urge down, instead whipping the rifle around quickly, and aiming as swiftly as he could, letting off the first shot with a crack like thunder, deafening in the empty corridors of the fortress around him. Reed ducked to the side, avoiding the bullet, and started to weave about like a snake to evade Tom's shots.

                Tom let off round after round, turning the barrel in alternating directions to try and hit the Englishman armed with the knife, using the other man's weapon as a kind of target. Reed was – apparently – too quick for him, and each time, the bullet tore into the wall, smashing a chunk free, or dislodging painting from the walls.

                Tom bounded to his feet as he aimed for his final shot, levelling the barrel with a determined grimace. Reed took the oppurtunity to slip in behind a door, and close it just as the Winchester fired. The bullet ripped into the steel door, leaving a noticeable dent, and then an eerie silence descended.

                _Okay… eight shots… reload, Sawyer!_ Tom looked down at the rifle, as if hoping something miraculous would happen. When his mind snapped back to reality, and he understood that more rounds without reloading was impossible, he started to fumble in the breast pocket of his waistcoat, trying to be as quick as he could. He felt the definite shape, and pulled the round free.

                A slam up ahead caused him to look up in a slight panic. _C'mon, **c'mon**, load!_ The bullet was reluctant, and no matter how hard he tried, it wouldn't slide into the chamber on the side of the Winchester, denying him the protection he needed, even as the knife started to charge towards him. 

                Before it would load and grant him the satisfaction of defence, Tom looked up and dropped his jaw, before pulling a resolute expression, and raising the gun as a makeshift shield, relieved when he felt the blade collide with the solid barrel of the weapon he cherished so much.

                _You damage this thing, and I'll kill you with my bare hands_, he thought without even realising, as he was forced backwards, turning and twisting the gun this way and that to protect his chest, the blade stabbing at him over and over. The gun was oddly useful in this fashion, only until he felt his back crash against a small podium, and then the wall. A statue fell to the floor and smashed into pieces. The gun lowered, and Tom gave a shout when the blade of the knife slashed the skin on his hand between his thumb and forefinger.

                Growling, Tom lashed out with a foot, feeling the blood seep from the wound. The man was thrown away with the force of an anvil, Tom's anger projected in the blow. He crashed heavily into a fragile door off to their side, his balance lost. The barricade collapsed into splinters with the force, and Reed slammed against a shelving unit. Bottles and jars toppled, and a stopped fell free from some sort of black powder, something Tom did not recognise. Then he realised he couldn't care less, for it had given him the advantage he so needed.

                Reed was partially visible.

                _I'm not gonna be beaten by any stuffy sneak of a bureaucrat_. Tom scowled, and the man gave a shake of the head, panting as he realised his edge was lost. Like the coward he was, Reed fled into the confines of the large storage cupboard. Tom gave a sneer, and then heard a very unsettling 'clunk' from down the corridor where the fight had originated.

                _Okay… why do I not like the sound of that?_

                Tom turned his head swiftly, hair flying in his eyes, making him wish he hadn't let it grow so long. That concern was forgotten as an armoured tank of a man came stomping around the corner, a long barrel of some kind held in his gauntleted hands. The only way to describe it was a _goliath_. That was the word Tom registered, before letting the empty Winchester fall with an unceremonious clatter.

                Face covered with determination, he growled again, and tore his Colt pistols from their holsters, cocking back the hammers as he raised them with practised speed and ease. Within a heartbeat, he was letting loose with an accurately aimed hail of bullets, normally fatal to any man… who wasn't wearing impenetrable armour.

                The goliath staggered slightly with each blow, the barrel of each Colt flaring alternatively with the pulling of the trigger. Tom narrowed his eyes, mouth curled into a snarl, until he heard the double click.

                _I **hate** that sound…_

                The goliath was almost triumphant as he raised the barrel, where Tom saw a small flickering flame of blue.

                Eyes wide, Tom felt his heart skip a beat with recognition. "Whoa!"

                And he just managed to dart off to his right and into the storeroom where he had sent Reed off in retreat, as a rocket of searing flame shot up behind him. The heat slammed him in the back, and he winced, uncomfortable at once. Unfortunately, the room was stocked from floor to ceiling with flammable parchments and inks, the bottles bursting like balloons with the heat. The papers flared into a fury of crackling as the heat licked at them.

                Tom dove behind a shelf, and tried to escape on the other side, only to find the goliath had pursued with vehemence, letting loose streams of burning flame as he went, the whine of the projection making a shiver rise up the American's spine. He was being backed into a corner, like a rabbit down a hole, with a hound on his heels.

                _Not good… **not good**!_ He registered his being backed into a corner, his heart racing and breathing rapid and slightly panicked. As a child, he had always been somewhat fascinated by fire and its affects, but now he quickly decided he hated the stuff. 

                _Drop the damn guns, Sawyer, waste of bullets anyway._ He obeyed his thought, and the Colts clattered to the ground, even as he instinctively snatched up the largest and most 'useful' thing he could find at hand… which happened to come in the form of an unlit torch bearing from the wall. He branded it like a club, raising it with a glower. 

                The goliath pounded up before him, triumph seeping from the man inside – another coward in Tom's humble opinion – in waves. He thought he heard him chuckle as the nozzle rose again, ready to incinerate the trapped American.

                _Okay… this is it, I'm done for. At least I went down with a fight._

                "Sawyer!"

                _What the-?_

                A pole or spike of some sort dove out of nowhere, piercing the fuel tank on the rear of the goliath, even as the suddenly recognisable cockney accent yelled, "Run for it!"

                Skinner wasn't fast enough, despite his background as a stealth expert, and the goliath whirled, rocketing fire _into_ the thief, who let out a long and pained shout as he ran, limbs flailing, from the room. The smell of burnt flesh trailed from him, and Tom growled loudly, using the chance presented to him in order to charge forward and smash the torch into the pierced tank, which caved under the blow. The goliath collapsed to his knees, and Tom quickly realised that running was in order.

                As he fled the scene of conflict, he heard the dull boom of the goliath being destroyed by the fuel and the attacks made upon it. Tom was inwardly victorious, but concerned – more than he had ever felt – on the outside.

                 _Jesus, where is Skinner?_ Tom looked left and right, guilt swimming in him. The man had saved his life! He found it hard to believe, but then remembered what Quatermain had said about the thief… a hero… seemed the hunter was more accurate with that assessment that he had probably known.

                _He has to be around here somewhere_. Tom instinctively ducked his head as bottles of flammable content shattered, and glass was sent reeling. None came anywhere near him, but the flames still threw out unbelievable heat and he was suddenly very wary of the sensation. The last thing he needed – or wanted, respectively – was to be burnt. _God, come on, Skinner, where are you?_

                "Skinner?" he called to the labyrinth, hoping and praying for some kind of answer. A mumble, a groan… anything. He was rewarded with nothing. His heart started to sink, seemingly finding solace in the pit of his stomach, a very unpleasant sensation.

                He pressed on, turning a corner, and hearing someone gasp and give a shiver. His heart just about leapt into his throat as he headed in its general direction. A very odd shape began to come into focus, and he realised with horror what it was.

                "Skinner?" 

                The charred flesh was visible, threads of it hanging loose, nothing but burnt remains of human skin. At least half – if not more – of his body was visible because of the fire's affects. Tom felt awful, and grimaced at the sight despite himself. He couldn't help it. This was his fault.

                "That's the last time I play with matches…" Skinner managed, always in good humour.

                Tom crouched, balancing on his haunches to perhaps help the wounded thief and companion, but Skinner suddenly reached out with a hand.

                Tom cocked his head, confused, pulling off half a smile before he heard the ring of steel, and felt the blade press against his throat. Tom opened his mouth, and paused, knowing instantly who was holding the knife.

                _Reed… son of a bitch…_

                The pressure on the blade told him he was to rise, and he did so with a slight mumble of a sound, closing his eyes as he felt the soft chuckle against the back of his neck.

                _I am such an idiot…_


	13. New Century

**Author's Note: **This is almost over, guys! This is the _penultimate_ chapter! I can't believe I'm nearly finished *frown* And I was having so much fun! I hope you've been enjoying it as much as I have. Oh yes, and for those of you who don't yet know, I've created a freewebs site dedicated to just this fic all on its own. If you go to **Clez Corner**, and go to my LXG site, then add 2 to the end of the URL, you can find it, lol, andthen you'll be directed to the Shadow Games website (hopefully). It's just the basic text from here, with some of my personal screen caps and favourite pictures from the net. Hope you like it. Let me know what you think. And remember… only one chapter left!

**Scene: **That pivotal shot…

**Shout Outs:**

**Sethoz: **What _is_ it with me and the way I write fire? I can scare the bejeezus out of just about anyone with that… not really a blessing, but not really a curse, 'eh? Have to say, when I read the way you included that Landon quote, I burst out laughing. It was so cleverly and seamlessly done… you genius! Thanks for the praise on the description… you might be able to tell I like description… perhaps a little _too_ much. Ahem. Haha, now you won't be able to watch the film without Tom's thoughts from this fic bursting into your mind and making you laugh! Your sister will give you the strangest looks… before I leave you; I have one final thing to declare… Smurf on acid!!!! Aheh…

**Chisara Notell: **You like fire…? Excuse me whilst I shudder *shudders* Sorry, I just hate it… with all my being. Some people know why, but I shall not go into detail. Needless to say, 'twas not nice. But anyway, thank you kindly for the review! And I guessed right on your favourite bit? *ticks off another point* Excellent… Mwahahaha! No worries about the alert email… that's a habit now, lol.

**Leigh S. Durron: **Ah, it seems quite a few of you were waiting for that last chapter. Glad it satisfied. It was a little tricky to write. I couldn't really use the book to help; cuz the fight is different in that, lol. *pokes book… gently* Ah details… I love 'em.

**kingleby: **I'm glad you don't think he's an idiot, because I don't think that either. Skinner was very brave and noble in that part of the movie, and I love him for that. I thank you for your kind words, and hope you enjoy the last two chapters!

**Silent Bob 546: **And who told you Skinner was bad? *holds up frying pan* I know how to use this… who was it? I'll make 'em see stars and tweety birds! *puts down pan* Okay, I'm calm now. I get told I'm really sarcastic sometimes… by my sister, who doesn't seem to realise that I am only sarcastic to her when she is annoying me. Lol. Trigger Happy on a shirt for Tom would be so funny! God, if I could write comedy, I would write one with him wearing a shirt like that! Hehehehe.

**Niani: ***picks up pan again* If they don't make a sequel, I'm going to introduce them to this… *puts it down* But then again, if I pummel them all, they can't make one. Hmm, tricky situation. I'm sure they will… I meant they made Spiderman2, didn't they? And Blade 2, and Scooby 2, and… okay, there are too many to list, but you see my point. Write the letters! Lol.

**Naitriab: **Tom Sawyer wasn't actually in it that much… Quatermain was pretty central, cuz he's Connery, and lots of Sawyer was cut, which was a shame cuz it's so well acted on the DVD as well. But being the protégé, I can kind of see validity to your point. Most of the characters were overshadowed by Connery unfortunately. I mean, look at poor Skinner, he disappeared in the middle (no pun intended)! I'm glad you've enjoyed it, and hope you continue to as well. Thanks!

**angelic katty: **I could leave it there because… I'm mean? Works for me! Young lady? Something tells me I'm might be older than you… just a feeling. Not sure what feeling… hmm. Meh. Glad you liked the chapter!

**RogueSparrow: ***pokes Reed* Stupid man… oh well, not long left for him, Bwahaha! *hands you tissues* C'mon, Sparrow, stay with me, you can beat this cold. Thanks for saying I rock! Still think you're being too kind though, lol.

**Ellina: ***is tackled*Oof! Hehe. Hello there! I'm glad you flick between characters, but Jekyll is a fine character to admire. Very noble that one. Aw, wow, very nice of you to say that about my writing… I know Sethoz will be pleased as well. Very nice of you indeed… thanks for that! Ooh! A plushie, all for me! *cuddles plushie* Thankies! 

**Psychozzy: **Hehe, yeah, unfortunately they cut the "I'm Reed" line, which kinda sucks. Might have been nice to have that pointed out definitely. But like I said, it is in the novelisation. Thought I'd let you all know, in case you didn't already, cuz if you listen carefully, you can pick it out in his voice. Oh god yes "DAVID AND GOLIATH!" is my favourite part of _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer_. It was late at night, and I burst out laughing and woke up my sister, lol! I couldn't think of anything else to call the armoured man, so goliath seemed to fit. Plus that's what I called it in my script. Thanks for the review!

**Graymoon74: **I agree with you about the burning. Jeez, that would be agonising. Glad you're enjoying it, and… I don't want it to end either! Hurry up and make a new film so I can fictionalise that one! Lol!

**Beck2: **Aww, bless him, he can just be a little bit careless *hugs new plushie*. I'll be sad to see it go as well, but then I suppose I will have more time for my other works… well that didn't comfort me at all. Ah well. Thanks.

**LotRseer3350: **He cuts him on the hand… after… wait, no need to tell you where cuz I just described it *slaps forehead* duh! Clez has brain… Clez just no like _using_ brain… hehe. Ooh, an update? Yes please. Thanks for the review. 

Eeep… so much shout outs! Sorry about that… on with the show!

* * *

                With one last glance down at Skinner, Tom was forced to walk away, the knife still pressing threateningly against his neck. He knew better than to struggle or do anything else that might cause him to get his throat slit… it would be rather counterproductive.

                Reed walked directly behind him, giving him a 'helpful' – and rather irritating – shove in the back every few seconds to perhaps remind him of his presence. Tom wanted to lash out at the other man, to try and free himself, but the proximity of the knife to his throat reminded him that he should refrain. 

                _He was trying to kill me a minute ago… why not now? Why the change of tactic?_

                Tom couldn't understand why the man was now avoiding killing him when he had ample oppurtunity. All he had to do was reposition the knife, and… Tom quickly realised he should be thinking about something else. Like the bombs Skinner had planted…

                _They should have gone off by now… what's taking so long?_ He was hoping to use the oppurtunity – so long as he wasn't killed in the blast – to try and escape from Reed. He knew it carried a risk, but he had to try. Whatever Reed was planning, it couldn't be innocent. Tom wished he knew the intention, but he realised quickly that asking was going to get him nowhere favourable.

                That was when he felt the shudder in the building, and then the resonating boom that echoed all around them in the corridor. The shaking reached them, just as the second bomb detonated, followed not long after by the third. The walls trembled as if in fright, and the structure around them creaked and heaved, chunks of stone dislodged and crashing down to the ground.

                Unstable for only a moment, Tom took the oppurtunity, and rammed his elbow back into Reed, who was seemingly stunned by the bombs. The wind was knocked out of him audibly, and Tom moved to wriggle out from beneath the knife, even as Reed gripped Tom's left arm tightly, and rammed him against the wall partially, knife brushing against his throat again.

                Reed's voice rasped down his ear, as he hissed, "Not smart, Yank." He wrenched Tom's arm upwards, and the American winced, setting his jaw afterwards, angry and slightly dejected. "I wouldn't try that again if I were you. Come on…" He yanked Tom away from the wall, the knife forever at his neck, firmly in place should he try anything. Now he had his arm gripped in addition, to keep him in line, and Tom had no choice but to obey, walking along in front of him, not fond of the idea of having his throat cut. The thought made him grimace.

                _At least I tried… there's that optimism again. Where do I get it all from?_

                It wasn't long before they came upon a short corridor, and Reed walked Tom down it, still gripping him tightly and threateningly. The corridor was almost void of light, and when they were walking down it, Tom thought he heard a voice as they neared the end.

                "Do you ever get tired of being wrong?"

                _Moriarty… dammit, why didn't I realise what he was doing before?_ Tom understood now, even as Reed pushed him into the light, making him squint with the abruptness of the transition from shadow. He could see Quatermain pointing a gun on Moriarty, the hammer cocked, body tensed and ready, alert. Moriarty was turned in their direction, even as Reed forced Tom to stop, and gripped his wrist tighter, a silent signal for him to keep quiet and not say a word to alert the hunter.

                _Don't turn around, Quatermain… just don't turn around… just shoot the bastard, **shoot** him._

                "Me," Moriarty persisted, holding his arms out to his sides slightly, cocky accent beginning to grate on the American's nerves, "the _League_… Skinner. Wrong." He held his golden Phantom's mask in one hand, and his 'box of tricks' in the other. Clearly, he had been moving to flee before Reed and Tom had entered the room.

                "Wrong about your little American friend as well."

                Tom saw the way Quatermain tensed even further, alarmed by the statement, and he closed his eyes, cursing Moriarty. _Son of a… he knew that would work. Please don't turn around… please…_ But he already knew Quatermain would.

                "Do you really think he's ready for action?" He looked up at the two silent arrivals, and Tom could have sworn there was a glint of triumph in Moriarty's eyes. "I think you've trained him about as well as you trained your son," Moriarty persisted, donning an almost thoughtful expression, knitting his brow and slowly raising the golden mask in front of Quatermain's face… a mirror. Quatermain stared into it, and Tom felt his heart increase in pace, knowing the hunter could probably see the reflection of the hostage situation behind him.

                There was a brief moment where nothing happened, and Tom actually thought that Quatermain was going to take the oppurtunity to destroy Moriarty… something that might have ended with one very dead American on the other hand… and Tom wasn't sure how to feel about that.

                But suddenly, Quatermain spun on his heel, aiming so quickly and letting off a precise shot that Tom forgot the skill of the other man, even as he felt the jerk in Reed's body. The knife relaxed from around his throat, and the American Agent ducked instinctively, bowing his body down, even as Reed slumped to the floor, shot in the head, the blade clattering down at his feet, useless. 

                _… I don't believe it…_

                A gasp of a noise from behind him made him whirl, his hair in his face again, and a swell of horror settled in his being as he saw Quatermain grasping awkwardly for a large knife, lodged between his shoulder blades, the hilt slightly twisted. Moriarty had stabbed him, and was fleeing for an impressive crack in the wall.

                With a growl, Tom ran to the edge of the slight balcony, and threw himself from it, landing with a roll, and running to the hole, even as Moriarty flung himself through it and out into the snowy air beyond. Tom poked his head through the hole, leaning out enough to see the man was wearing a sort of extra cloak, giving him buoyancy and lift, enabling him to glide like a bat down to the ground.

                Without hesitation, Tom turned again, running back to where he had caught a glimpse of the elephant gun, and grabbing it up in his hands, hefting the weight without even taking note of it. He came up beside Quatermain, trying to tell himself all the while that the other man was fine, and that he could just shrug off the injury like before.

                _Don't be an idiot… look at him. He's hurt bad this time_.

                Quatermain pulled his spectacles from his pocket, the lenses shattered beyond repair, useless. The two locked gazes, tensely.

                "Get 'im," Quatermain grumbled after a moment, and Tom gave a single nod, rushing back to the crack and leaning against the cold stone for support, to help him heft the rifle to his shoulder and balance.

                Tom sighted down the barrel of the heavy gun, and saw the retreating form of Moriarty, feeling the sinking sensation in his stomach at a realisation that hit him, even as snow started to settle on his hair. He turned his head back to Quatermain, who was now rather unsteady on his feet, though Tom tried not to notice. "It's too far," he said, matter-of-factly. 

                Quatermain shook his head a little, probably as much as he could manage given the terrible injury in his back. "Take your time," he managed to say in encouragement. "You're ready."

                So it was that Tom took the man's words to heart, and glanced back out through the sighting position in the wall, pulling back on the hammer with his thumb, cocking the rifle. He hefted it to his shoulder again, and sighted once more down the barrel, lining up and carefully assessing his shot.

                Just in the background of his awareness, he thought he heard Quatermain's voice; "Take… your…" The last word failed to pass from the man, even as – unbeknownst to the American – he slumped down against some boxes and old broken furniture.

                _C'mon… you can do this. There's Moriarty… you've got the gun, and Quatermain believes in you. Just take your time with it… feel the shot… don't rush it. You can do this._ He tried not to tell himself that if he missed, the world might go to war.

                An eternity seemed to trickle past, with Moriarty running as fast as his legs would carry him over the snowfields, with Tom up in the vantage point in the cracked and leaning tower, the elephant gun held in his hands, the steadiest it had ever been, his green eyes never wavering.

                He stared down the barrel, breathing slipping into a shallow rhythm as his concentration took over, and the shape of the gun seemed to become almost like an extension of his own body, something no longer alien, even as his finger crept along the trigger, feeling the cool metal.

                Letting out an exhalation, Tom squeezed the trigger, feeling the bullet explode out of the barrel with a deafening crack like thunder. His eyes stayed on the back of the retreating man, until he saw Moriarty jolt and slump forward into the snow, his 'box of tricks' and mask skittering away, the former tumbling into an icy pool, sinking into the oblivion.

                Tom felt the slight grin slip onto his face when he realised he had succeeded… he had _actually_ done it!

                _I did it… he's dead… I killed him. Well, Huck… bet you never saw that coming._

                Tom turned from his vantage point, bringing the gun down from his shoulder as he declared victoriously, "I got 'im!"

                And then he stopped short, when he saw Quatermain slumped, wheezing and struggling for breath as he stared at Tom, almost smiling proudly. Tom felt the lump in his throat. Quatermain was dying…

                "May this new century," he began, fighting to form each word and speak it clearly, "be yours, son… as the old one… was mine."

                Even as Tom started forward, perhaps to help the hunter, Quatermain's body slumped completely to the side, and his head lolled as his last breath slipped out of him. His chest ceased to rise and fall, and he fell still.

                Tom stopped, frozen in the spot by the realisation that his mentor and friend was dead… killed, saving him. Just like Huck…

                No thoughts formed in his usually active mind as he stared at the body, snow falling gently and gracefully, almost peacefully, around his form. He lowered the butt of the elephant gun to the ground carefully, held in his right hand, left finding his pocket out of habit. Tom hung his head in respect, and felt the sadness grip him firmly.

                He barely seemed to notice the footsteps approaching, and how long he stood there, simply staring down at the floor in a melancholy fashion, but when a hand landed on his arm, he looked up into the crystal blue eyes of Mina Harker. She was gazing at him inquisitively, but sadly, and then threw a glance over her shoulder to the other new occupants of the room.

                Tom didn't speak; no words seemed to want to obey. Jekyll and Nemo were also in the room, and a handful of the latter's crew. Jekyll was wearing a thick coat now, his shirt and jacket ruined from the transformation into Hyde and back again.

                The doctor moved slowly over to the body of Quatermain; as if he already knew the man was dead, and checked for a pulse, letting out a heavy, long sigh. Nemo came over, and the two exchanged quiet words.

                Mina looked Tom in the eye again, and said one word, "M?" 

                Tom met her gaze, firmly, barely with any emotion at all, until he shifted his grip on Matilda, Quatermain's gun. "He's dead. I shot 'im."

                The lazy, casual and dejected way in which he said it made the others realise that celebration was not in order. On top of the fact their leader had fallen in the battle, spirits were low, and Tom frowned. They had won… but paid dearly for it.

                Without saying another word, Tom handed the gun to a sailor, and walked over to help Nemo and Jekyll with the transportation of Quatermain's body, ignoring the blood all over his wounded hand. He would deal with that later.

                All the way back to the Nautilus, Tom was silent and withdrawn. He didn't even inquire what was to happen with Moriarty's body, and he would tell them all that he and Quatermain had learned later, when he had slept, perhaps… if he could even manage to sleep. He and Jekyll carried the hunter's body – wrapped carefully in cloth to protect it – between them on a kind of stretcher, covered once again in the thick, long coats and thermal boots. Tom had refused the offering of covering for his head and eyes, not bothered by it in the slightest. The blizzard from earlier was all but gone, and only a light layer of snow still fell from the white clouds above. 

                No matter how much he tried to remind himself of the victory, he couldn't _feel_ it…


	14. Goodbye

**Author's Note:** I am **_so_** sorry this took so long in coming. I got swamped with other… stuff. *bats self on head* No more excuses! *shakes head* Alrighty then… on with the show… oh no… this is the last chapter! I can't believe this is over! *cries* I'm okay, seriously, just… wow, this started off as a pointless one-shot that I wrote on New Year's Day, and now it's a full length recap of the story! O_O Talk about… crazy? Determined? Committed? You decide ~_^ Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and I hope you enjoy the last chapter. It's been a blast!

**Scene:** The funeral.

**Shout outs:**

**Psychozzy: **I'm glad you thought the snow was a nice touch. Couldn't go without including that. Sorry to hear about all the crazy insert bad word here going on at your school! That sounds… nasty, to put it very mildly. I'm glad I can cheer you up somewhat. I'm guessing the woman hasn't heard of 'publicity', huh?  ~_^  Thanks for sticking with me!

**RogueSparrow: **Yeah, it is sad, isn't it, my good buddy? I'll miss writing it. It was fun while it lasted. Aw, you're too kind! Really, your reviews always make me smile, thank you for that. I hope this pleases. 

**Leigh S. Durron: **Thank you very kindly for the support about how I wrote the last part. Glad it was satisfying. Thank you for your loyalty. 

**angelic katty: **I figured he had to try and get away at one point, right? I mean… he's Tom Sawyer! He wouldn't take it lying down! Glad you approved of that. Thank you for your kind words, and your patience.

**Graymoon74: **Ah yes, good old voodoo… or witch doctors, whatever you want to call it/them. Lol. What would we do without them? Well, Quatermain would stay dead for one. Ah, but you forget, dear Graymoon74, that _Scooby Doo_ did… crap, at the theatres, and the sequel is out! So… there's hope for us LXG fans yet! Do not despair… remember, optimism! Thank you kindly for staying with this story.

**Chisara Notell: **Thank you very much for your kind words. Mean a lot, they really do. Very comforting as a writer. Well… it was almost two weeks wasn't it? I swear, if it hadn't been for that stinking ban, this would be over already… wait… is that a good thing? Glad you stayed with me!

**kingleby: **Aw, I made you cry? Bless your little heart, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to… oh wait, did I? I'm not sure, but I'm going to take it as a good thing. Thank you for your praise and your patience!

**Sethoz: **Sethoz! It's ending, pal! It's nearly over! Ack! No more poking me now, you! I'm gonna kinda miss that… oh well, there's always the other stories, 'eh? Lol. Ah yes, that good old word 'counterproductive'… I love that word, lol. I kinda left it to the reader's imagination what happened to Skinner, but my impression is that they rushed him straight back to the Nautilus because of his severe injuries. Make sense? M is dead! Rejoice! And Reed! Rejoice! And Allan… I guess that calls for sad faces, huh? : ( There we go, Allan, that's for you. Me? Christian? Why dear, Sethoz, (even though I loved the way you slipped that in there, lol) you know I'm an atheist ; ) Thanks!

**Silent Bob 546: **Ack! I made someone else cry! Here, have a tissue. *offers you tissue* Better? Hope so. And as for Dorian *throws cream cake, splatting him in the face, and dusts off hands* Ah, much better. Thanks!

**Ellina: **Hey, thanks. Glad you liked it. Thanks for the review!

**drowchild: **Aw, there, there, it's okay. It's not so bad. I have more stuff… although not so completely Tom-orientated as this one was… and still is for this last chapter. Thank you so much for staying around!

**Beck2: **So glad you enjoyed that last chapter, and that it relayed it all for you… I make no sense! Anyway, hope this last chapter ends it nicely for you, and thank you for sticking around and watching it unfold.

**Skaye: **LOL! So funny, what you said about Moriarty. Gave me a good tickling. Thanks for the review!

**LotRseer3350: **Yes, sadly, all things must come to an end… at one time or another. Sad but true. I'm gonna miss this story, and it's comforting to know other people will too. Thanks for staying around and having patience with me.

**Fritz Will Get You: **Last chapter, Fritz… sorry to say. Did I tell you I love your name? Cuz I meant to, and if I didn't… I love your name! It's funny, and original. Anyway, thanks for the review, and I hope you enjoy this part!

Without any further adieu… the final chapter of **_Shadow Games…_**

* * *

                Most of the journey back to Africa in order to bury Allan Quatermain alongside his son – something that Tom had been more than insistent of since his death – was spent either in his cabin, or up on the conning tower… very rarely did he seek company. He felt terrible… empty and dead inside. He had made a terrible mistake, letting himself be 'ambushed' like that, and if he had just paid more attention, Allan Quatermain would still be alive, and Moriarty would have met his end at the hunter's hands. Not that Tom hadn't taken pride in knowing that his best friend, Huckleberry Finn, had been avenged, by his own hand… no one else would suffer at the hands of that maniac.

                He stood on the very promenade of the Nautilus, his hands in his pockets, the wind playing coolly through his blonde hair and whipping it about his face, and he closed his green eyes, bowing his head back and letting the air play over him. It felt good to simply stand, alone with one's thoughts… not that they were amazingly comforting.

                _If only I had realised… but would it have made any difference? What's to say Reed wouldn't have tricked me anyway… made me go along with him some other way? It might not have made any difference at all._ He frowned, bringing his head down, eyes still closed. _There's no way of knowing, I guess._

                Over the past few days, on the journey, the other members – as in the ones who were still alive – had tried to socialise with him, make him feel better about himself. Skinner, of course, had spent a lot of time in the infirmary, healing after his burning. On top of the death of Quatermain, Tom had the guilt associated with Skinner's wounding to deal with.

                _I wonder why he saved me… it wasn't as though I had ever been kind to him at all. There are more worthy people. _He opened his eyes and looked out over the dimming horizon at the waves lolling lazily about, lapping against the Nautilus' exterior. He heard them splash gently, and felt the cool salty air on his face, and frowned.

                He had visited the invisible man a couple of times, but not much conversation had taken place. It had been a little awkward. It was like that with everyone now… they weren't sure what was going to happen to them now that their unofficial first and only mission was over. Would they stick together, outcasts and misfits all in one place, comforted by one another's presence? Or would they disband, head back to their native countries and lives? Tom wasn't sure what he wanted to do… but he knew he should report back to his government on the death of Moriarty.

                _I doubt they care… they lose one good agent, and they lose interest… it's weird how that works._ He remember the almost nonplussed way in which they had informed him to carry on… well… in truth, he was starting to forget what had happened, and the details were faded, nearly lost to him now. He just knew that Huck's death had barely caused a stir, though they had seemed to regret the loss of one of their best.

                Sighing, Tom turned back from the rail, and leaned against it, his boots firm on the ground beneath him, even as the door opened. Captain Nemo pushed his head out, and looked to him, as if he had expected to find him… it was no surprise. The last few days had been the same.

                "Agent Sawyer, I expected I would find you here," Nemo informed him, and Tom nodded. "I came to tell you that we would be submerging in a moment. We have charged the solar panels, and night draws in. We will be arriving alongside Africa in the morning. You should try to eat something, and get some rest."

                "Okay. Thank you." Tom nodded, and pushed off from the rail, pulling his hands from his pockets as he went. Africa… Tom wasn't sure how they would go about transporting Quatermain's body to his grave, and bury it. Tom supposed Quatermain had friends in the area who would be more than happy to lend a hand in putting the hunter to his rest. Tom slipped past Nemo, and moved silently down the ladder, before moving off down one corridor.

                Nemo called after him, voice gentle and understanding, "In every endeavour, there is loss, Agent Sawyer. Despite the presence of optimism… it is the way of things."

                Tom glanced back over his shoulder, locking gazes with the Indian captain, and sighed again, replying, "I guess you're right… but it doesn't make me feel any better about it."

                After a few, quiet moments, Tom hung his head, and walked off again, back to his cabin. He had no doubt Nemo would have some food sent to his room, as he had the past couple of days, to ensure that the American at least had the oppurtunity to eat if it so happened he wished to. To be honest, his appetite had fallen.

                When he got back to his room, he kicked the door closed behind him, melancholy as ever, his optimism all but absent. He froze when his eyes fell upon the rifle leaned up beside his chest at the end of his bed, and he walked over to it, taking it in his hand, hefting the impressive weight.

                Matilda… Quatermain's elephant gun. It was heavy… almost painful to grip in one arm. Tom held it in both then, to even the load, and sighed, propping himself on the edge of the bed. He looked down at it, studying its detail.

                _What am I supposed to do with this?_

                A knock at his door disturbed his reverie, and he looked up, hand instinctively finding the trigger of the weapon… but so far as he knew, it wasn't loaded. It was just a habit. He called out, "Who is it?"

                Tom wasn't particularly in the mood for company.

                "It's Mina Harker," replied the voice through the door, soft and feminine, and Tom found himself facing a fork in his mind. Let her in and face her soothing blue eyes that always seemed to make him feel guilty without solid reasoning… or turn her away. It was near unbearable.

                He closed his eyes, trying to think, before he called, "Come in."

                It wasn't long until the door swung open, quietly, and she slipped inside, beautiful as ever, but seeming more at peace than he had seen her before. He had heard she had defeated Dorian Gray in combat, destroying him with his own painting… as ridiculous as it sounded.

                _Should have figured his own vanity would kill him._

                 She stood near the door for some time, trying to avoid eye contact with him it seemed, until she said, "I see you kept Mr. Quatermain's gun."

                Tom glanced to her for a moment, and shrugged, exaggerating the movement for what it was worth, and said, "Only until I can decide what to do with it. Maybe there's someone in Africa who would want it… I don't know."

                Mina crossed slowly over to sit beside him, and there was only a matter of ten inches between them, if that. She was regarding the gun in Tom's hands, and she had cocked her head to one side, as she began to say, "I have a thought… it is just what I think Allan Quatermain would have liked… after all, he was very fond of this weapon."

                "Yeah he was," Tom mumbled, staring down at the rifle as if it would provide him with all the answers he would ever need. He would – needless to say – be disappointed.

                Mina took in a slow breath, delicate and pensive, and then she offered, "If I understand how Mr. Quatermain looked on you… as a student, and one he respected I might add… it is my impression that he would rather _you _kept it."

                Tom looked to her suddenly, furrowing his brow in confusion. 

                _She can't be serious…_

                "I am being most sincere, Agent Sawyer. I saw that he trusted you… it would be a shame to see his prized possession passed onto another man who is wasting away in Africa. I'm sure he would rather see it treasured and in the hands of one he taught."

                Tom averted his gaze, not sure what to make of the information he had just been provided with. Maybe Mina was right… but then again, what if she wasn't? Could Tom really justify keeping the weapon himself? What would he use it for? 

                _There's always target practise…_ He almost smiled at that thought, and looked back to Mina, shrugging, and saying, "Maybe you're right."

                Mina smiled, and nodded. "It is what I think he would have liked. After all, he took you under his wing… the two of you were close, though perhaps you couldn't see that for yourselves until it was too late. It is as they say… you cannot truly appreciate what you have… until you lose it."

                Tom's eyes locked with hers, and he knew he must have looked saddened, for she frowned, and offered a heartfelt, "I am sorry we lost him, Tom. He was a great leader, and he will be deeply missed."

                She touched a hand to his shoulder, comforting and brief, and then stood from the bed, walking for the door. Just as she turned the handle, she said to him, "I hope you will join us for dinner this evening. There are not many of us left, and it would be a shame to lose another, if only in spirit."

                And then she was gone, the door closing behind her as if she had never been there, a simple apparition. Tom stared after her, and then regarded the gun in his hands once more, before resting it back in its place.

                _She's right… I can't let it rot away in the hands of another retired adventurer. Maybe he would rather I kept hold of it. _He kept his eyes on it for a moment, before thinking over what Mina had said to him regarding dinner that evening.

                _Why does she always have to be right? Doesn't she ever get tired of it?_ He smiled, realising that she was indeed correct. He had been selfish to sit on his own every night, wallowing in unnecessary guilt, for he couldn't change what had happened. It had been inevitable… fate, almost. He couldn't alter it, though he wanted to. If he had the power to go back and correct every stupid mistake he had ever made, from upsetting Aunt Polly, to letting Sanderson Reed creep up behind him and use him as a hostage, then he would… but he knew he couldn't.

                And he just had to live with it.

* * *

                Though dinner was a rather silent affair, everyone seemed mildly comforted by Tom's presence. They made polite conversation, drank tea and ate native Indian food, which Tom had to admit… was pretty damn good when he thought it over. People he knew he could trust surrounded him – save for Skinner, who was still recovering in the infirmary, and Tom knew he could always rely on that man now – and it wasn't uncomfortable.

                For one time in his life, Tom felt welcomed, and appreciated. As a child, he had always been glared at, called a mischief-maker and nuisance. His Aunt had loved him but sometimes he had felt like a burden, especially with Sid and Mary for the woman to take care of as well. But now, he was taking care of himself, – for the most part – he had responsibilities, and he was part of something.

                _Which reminds me… what's going to happen to us now? _

                As he glanced to the faces of the others collected – Mina, Nemo and Jekyll – he couldn't help but wonder if they were thinking the same thing themselves…

* * *

                The intense heat of the African sun at midday beat down on him, as he stood over Allan Quatermain's newly dug grave, his cross-shaped headstone firmly set in the ground, the mound depressing to look upon. He stared down at it, melancholy and feeling unimportant, with his Winchester slung across his back, over his shoulders, his hands draped over the stock and the barrel, respectively, to keep it in place.

                _At least he'll find the peace he was looking for. He'll get to see his son again._

                Glancing up to the crowd opposite him, a small gathering of Quatermain's friends and acquaintances from the area, Tom saw the rest of the _League_ approach, all of them… Skinner had been pronounced healthy enough to join them, and it showed. His skin was no longer horrible to look upon, charred and burned, but now… well, if it weren't for the leather coat and trilby, he would have been invisible save for his footprints. 

                Jekyll had removed his jacket, and slung it over his shoulder, trying to free himself of some of the heat. Nemo was as regal as ever, his face stern and impassive save for the sadness shown in his eyes… his ever-expressive eyes.  And then there was Mina… outfitted entirely in the respective mourning tones of black. She wore a veiled cap, and even black gloves on her hands. But the neck on her dress was a little lower, though Tom had tried not to notice. The red scarf was present around her neck, as always.

                Tom lowered the gun from his shoulder, and settled it down to his left, the butt on the ground, and his hand rested over the end of the barrel, the onlookers silent and respectful in their own grieving.

                Skinner was the first to speak, and Tom was grateful the locals had not panicked at the sight – or lack thereof – of him, "Do you remember he swore Africa wouldn't let him die?"

                _Must have missed that one._

                "I wish the old boy had been right…" And Tom realised he had never heard Skinner sounding so sincere. It made his insides tighten horribly, sadness swimming in him again. Tom found himself agreeing with the invisible man.

                The question had been burning in him since the trip to Africa had started, and Tom couldn't hold it in any longer, as he quietly asked, "So what's next?"

                He had been thinking it over on the journey… and even on the way from the docked Nautilus to this graveyard, the trip a combination of walking and horseback or – for Mina and Skinner – a carriage. They weren't strong enough or dressed appropriately for the riding of horses.

                To his surprise, Nemo was the one to respond, "I have long hidden away from the world. Now I wish to see it anew as the century turns." He balled his fist enthusiastically as he spoke, looking at his companions.

                Tom had almost forgotten that the year was drawing to a close, taking the eighteen-hundreds with it, and bringing new prospects… quite daunting, but exciting nevertheless. He glanced to his gathered companions, even as Nemo added invitingly, "You're all welcome to join me." He spread his arms slightly, and looked to them all, to emphasise his offer.

                Tom had to admit, it was a very tempting offer, to travel and see the world. But he wasn't sure…

                "We've all been hiding in one form or another," Mina said to no one in particular, and she looked to Tom for a moment. He wondered what she meant by that.

                _She's not wrong_, he thought to himself. _Just look at us. Jekyll sought solitude from his demons in Paris; Skinner is invisible, for crying out loud; Nemo hates the British, and has been secretive for years; and Mina pretty much hates herself for what she's become. And as for me… well I've never really fit in, have I?_ It was depressing when he put so much thought into it, but at least he was being more realistic now.

                "The Nautilus awaits," Nemo informed them, a gentle hint that they should not linger. Tom looked over into the background, where a man was performing some kind of – he guessed – ritual, perhaps in honour of Quatermain. He had a fire going, and was waving some kind of short staff around, chanting to himself in his native language. Tom furrowed his brow, an odd feeling settling in the pit of his stomach… not entirely foreboding, but something just felt out of place.

                "So who's comin'?" Tom asked, tearing his eyes from the chanting individual, reminding himself that it was rude to stare. He glanced in turn to his gathered associates, and waited for their individual responses. 

                 Nemo bowed his upper body, placing his palms together in front of his face; the movement directed at the fresh grave… his own sign of respect to Quatermain. He did not speak, simply moved away. 

                Skinner was the next to move, slipping around Jekyll as he bid Quatermain his final farewell, "So long, old chap."

                Tom watched the hat and coat move off after Nemo, catching up with quick, precise strides. Jekyll was soon following, parting with a sorrowful, "Goodbye, Allan."

                Mina and Tom were left on respective sides of the graves of Allan Quatermain and his son – whose name Tom, shamefully, did not known – before the woman moved to the foot of them, and bowed her head, truly saddened. Tom could see it on her beautiful face, and it only made his own sorrow swell, even as, in her soft, soothing tones, she said, "Goodbye." With that, she started to move away, her long skirts dragging a little way behind her, very much like the train on a wedding gown… but dark and mourning.

                Tom only then noticed the other mourners were gone, and without giving it another thought, pulled his Winchester up by the barrel, using his right hand to pull up on the lever. He released the gun with his left hand, and gave a deft jerk on his arm, sending the rifle spinning swiftly around his limb, before he clamped his hand around the stock, the affirming click of the gun music to his ears.

                He crouched, and lay the rifle down on the mound, saying simply, "Thanks." And he meant it… could not have meant it more if he had used all of his mustered strength. Allan Quatermain had truly helped him, in more ways than one.

                _A gun for a gun…_

                Tom patted the firing guard with his hand, and then stood, slipping his hands in his pockets with a final glance at the etched name on the cross-shaped headstone. He smiled wanly in farewell, and moved off to catch up with Mina, who – he realised – had waited for him. He came up alongside her, and walked with her back to where the carriage and horses had been tethered and stored. It wasn't an altogether long walk, and the heat had started to slip away, he noticed… clouds were drawing in.

                He glanced up at them, and turned his head to Mina, never breaking stride. "You see that?"

                Her blue eyes rose for a moment, and she too furrowed her brow, even as thunder rolled in the heavens. "Odd…"

                Nemo, Skinner and Jekyll hesitated also, and turned back to the others. They wore pensive expressions of confusion as to the sudden change in weather. Tom was still staring upwards, as another groan of thunder rumbled. "That's not normal… right?"

                _I don't know Africa, but I know this isn't right._ Mina simply shook her head, even as a crescendo of noise from behind them caused the spy and the vampire to turn, eyes staring back from the direction they had come.

                Tom narrowed his eyes, seeing the witch doctor yelling skyward, his fire swirling up with unbelievable, supernatural direction and speed, and a wind tore at the _League_ for a moment, unannounced and somewhat eerie.

                "What's going on?" Tom asked no one in particular, even as the other three men came closer. "What is he doing?"

                He received no response, shortly before a great arm of lightning burst from the heavens themselves, crackling downwards and slamming into the Winchester rifle, spreading across the grave.

                The eyes of the _League_ widened, as the energy crackled over the grave, and Tom let a small smile sweep onto his young face, even as it dawned on him what the witch doctor was attempting to do.

                The storm suddenly started to die away, the lightning and the thunder receding and fading as abruptly as they had arrived, and Tom kept his smile on his face, even as he said to the others, "C'mon… let's go."

                He turned, and with Mina, pushed on along the path, leaving Nemo, Jekyll and Skinner to stare at the struck grave for a few moments longer. They were soon catching up behind them, even as Tom's smile broke into a grin, and he shared his expression with Mina, whose eyes were alight with newfound hope and confidence.

                Together, the _League of Extraordinary Gentlemen_ walked away from their first mission.

                _And into a new century…_

* * *

**A/N2: **That's it folks… it's over. That's right, everyone… all done, no muss, finito! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it, and I do hope that the extra content in this chapter was satisfactory. I couldn't just write what came out of the film… had to add more. Please do leave your lovely comment on the way out the door, and let me know if this was worth it. Thank you all for your patience, and for sticking along for LXG, retold  ~_^  Ciao!

~Clez


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